


How Do You Spell Cliche?

by Hella_Queer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I wanna see how long I can keep them apart, Jealousy, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Slow Burn, lots Of feelings and the idiots who have them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17517335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: Here’s the thing about predictability; you never expect it to change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve very excited to finally publish the first chapter of what I hope to be an interesting story. I have a lot of plans for a lot of people, but most of all I see this as a writing exercise to step out of my comfort zone. Inspired by Binding Problem, a kagehina fic That very nearly broke me. I hope I can achieve a similar reaction with this. Thanks for reading, and I hope to update sooner rather than later.

It was a miracle that Coach Kobayashi had managed to find a place for them to stay on such short notice. This particular away game had been somewhere in the mountains, near a little village that looked like it came straight out of a postcard. The bus wouldn’t start, everyone’s sweat was freezing in the late January air, and they only had street clothes to change into. After disappearing for half an hour, Coach Kobayashi returned, bringing with him good, if suspicious, news. 

**The Old Crow** was a popular bed and breakfast, the crowning jewel of this speck of dust village. They were busiest during the holidays, when families and couples wanted a break from big city life. It too looked like a picture in a catalogue: a giant cabin that was probably once a hotel, but that kind of branding wasn’t as humbling. In any case, the place conveniently had enough rooms to house them all for the night, provided they shared. 

Kageyama is the last one to reach his room, having offered to help move their things out of the bus. He’s tired and cold and hungry and wants very much to collapse on his thin mattress in his dorm. He just changed the sheets a few days ago and they smell clean instead of...well, not clean. And as much as he likes his teammates, he doesn’t exactly like the idea of spending the night fighting over when they should turn off the lights. 

He finds the room easily enough. It’s the only one with the door still partially closed. Everyone else is standing in the hallway, talking about the game, the weather, debating if they should all go out for food or ask to use the kitchen for the night. As Kageyama gets closer to the door at the end of the hall, a pit starts to grow in his stomach. He keeps searching for one specific person, hoping to see a flash of brightly colored hair, or hear that painfully familiar laugh. 

He opens the door. 

Hinata looks up with a half smile, obviously expecting someone else, because it drops into a frown before he turns away and starts rooting through his bag. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey,” Kageyama says back. 

The room is small, some would say cozy, with a big bed, a dresser with a vanity mirror, and a large painting of a snowy hillside ski lodge hanging above the door. The curtains are open, no doubt Hinata’s doing, and Kageyama sees their bus being towed into the parking lot. Hopefully they’ll be on the road before five the following morning. 

Kageyama goes to drop his bag, intent on taking a hot shower and then sleeping off their loss, when reality catches up to him. 

“There’s only one bed.”

Hinata’s face scrunches up like he’s eaten two entire lemons. 

“Glad that serve to the back your head didn’t damage your eyes. You can still count.” He walks over to the mirror and starts fluffing his hair, making the top part stand up more than usual. His undercut is fresh and soft looking. “All the rooms with two beds are booked. I asked the woman at the front desk already.”

Kageyama can’t say he’s surprised. Hell, they should be lucky they got a room to themselves. Half the team was crammed into a joint nightmare with one bed, a couch and two futons. Still, it wasn’t like these were permanent housing orders. Surely if he asked to trade with someone they wouldn’t turn him down. 

“Thought you had worked on your serves more,” he says as he searches the walls by the bed for an outlet. “You’ve gotten sloppy.”

“Tell that to your failed dump shot,” Hinata fires back, the bite in his words worse than the chill outside. “Talk about shitty.”

That had been a joke once, Kageyama knows. He had laughed last time. He doesn’t laugh now. 

Eventually he settles on the fact that there’s only one wall outlet, so he plugs in his charger below Hinata’s and waits for his phone to blink to life. On the dresser Hinata’s phone lights up with a text. Kageyama doesn’t mean to see who it’s from ( **Kenma** ), and he doesn’t mean to read it ( **are you okay?** ), and it doesn’t hurt when he notices that Hinata’s lock screen has changed since the last time he saw it. Hinata and Kenma are in what looks like a photo booth, cat ears and whiskers in bright colors over their faces. 

Soft footsteps pad towards him, and Kageyama’s eyes dart down to his own phone just before they stop nearby. “I was gonna take that side.” Hinata stands in front of him, leaning back on one leg. He’s still in uniform, and Kageyama’s eyes are drawn to his knees, bruised purple from all the receives he failed to return. He wonders what hurts more. 

Kageyama thinks about fighting, but realizes rather quickly that his heart isn’t in it. “Whatever. We’re only here until morning, anyway.”

“Just making sure you know,” Hinata says after a few moments of silence. He walks over to his bag by the window and pulls out a ball of clothes. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

Kageyama hums, not bothering to look up until the bathroom door is closed and the shower is on. He isn’t expecting much when his phone comes back online. Maybe a missed call or two from his mom, a few university newsletter emails, though he never bothers to check those. His contact list has been a little scarce recently, so he doesn’t anticipate any messages. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any. 

 

**Oikawa-san [2:15 PM]**  
Good luck today Tobiochan!

**Oikawa-san [2:17 PM]**  
Iwa-Chan wishes you luck as well, how cute

**Oikawa-san [2:25 PM]**  
I’m taking you out for drinks once you get back. Win or lose )^o^(

 

Kageyama rolls his eyes, picturing his former senpai sitting on his couch, surrounded by physical therapy and sports medicine textbooks. After high school, Oikawa had taken a step back from volleyball, realizing that the stress and pressure he endured wasn’t worth hurting himself over any longer. But he was a good mentor, when he wasn’t being an ass, and Kageyama was privately happy at the good luck wishes. Old crushes die hard. 

 

**Special Kei [3:00 PM]**  
Please remind Yachi that I’m not a messenger pigeon. She has an exam right when your game starts and is currently obsessing over flash cards. She wants me to tell you good luck and to not ‘overdo the spiral’, Whatever that means 

**Special Kei [3:05 PM]**  
This should go without saying, but I wish you luck as well, King. 

 

That one is enough to put a smile on Kageyama’s face, albeit a brief one. He and Tsukishima were closer than they’ve ever been, but the circumstances that forced them to learn companionship were less than ideal. Even though he was with Kuroo now, happily from what he heard over holiday break, there were some wounds that never fully healed. Falling in love with your best friend being one of them. He should know, after all. 

He thinks about replying to them, really he does, he even types out a few responses before deciding to just wait until morning. He leaves his phone on the dresser and moves to the other side of the bed, the one closer to the bathroom. He kicks off his shoes and gets under the covers, closing his eyes with a tired sigh. 

They lost today. Badly. 

No one person could be singled out for it, nor was there a communication issue. They had practiced and practiced and ran drills until they were doing the motions in their sleep. But sometimes teams just _lose_. Sometimes things just don’t work out. They were all off their game, and try as he had to stand tall, Kageyama had crumbled when he needed him. 

When _they_ needed him! When the team needed him. 

Kageyama is mostly asleep when he hears the bathroom door open again. The lights are turned off almost immediately, before the steam has time to settle. He hears Hinata moving around in the dark, drying his hair, putting his uniform in his bag, going on his phone. Kageyama wants to ignore him but he’s hyper aware of his movements, going so far as to hold his breath when Hinata crawls into the other side of the bed. There’s more jostling behind him; Hinata curses under his breath before sighing out in frustration and finally settling down. 

Kageyama doesn’t move for a long time. He waits until he hears Hinata’s breathing slow, then waits another five minutes before turning and looking over his shoulder. 

With the moonlight slipping through the cracks in the curtains; Kageyama makes out two pillows close to his head, stacked one on top of the other. They’re plump, not yet weighed down, so it’s hard to see Hinata over them while laying down. Which, he slowly realizes, is the intent. But he can still see him in the mirror, his pale legs drawn up nearly to his chest, the idiot always slept in his underwear no matter the temperature. The way he sleeps with his back to the makeshift barrier, his arms acting as pillows. 

Annoyance rises up in Kageyama’s stomach, an unpleasant feeling like eating too much before a game. He wants to suffocate the bastard with the stupid pillows, but the fight leaves him just as quickly as it came. He doesn’t want to wake Hinata up just to yell at him, not tonight.

Instead, he adds his own pillows to the middle, creating an even longer line between them. He turns on his left side and closes his eyes once again, fighting back the tears that have been threatening to fall ever since they left the court after the whistle blew. He blinks hard and fast until the burn dissipates, until he can grasp sleep and ignore the sounds of the rest of the team outside the door, still chatting and connecting and coexisting. Kageyama doesn’t let himself cry. 

Because sometimes things just don’t work out. 

 

 

Hinata is the first rise, long before the dark blue sky turns pale gray with morning sunlight hidden behind dense clouds. He uses the bathroom, rinsing his mouth out with hot water, because they hadn’t planned on staying overnight anywhere. He checks his phone, ignoring the other one much too close. Kageyama never used a case, so the screen is cracked in two places and the sides and back are scratched and scuffed. He glares down at it, rubbing a finger over the crack near the home button. The screen comes to life. 

Tsukishima stares back at him, glasses perched on the end of his nose, flipping him off while sticking his tongue out. Kageyama crowds against him, posing much the same, only his middle finger pulls down at the skin of his eye. The angle is high, meaning Tsukishima must’ve taken it. 

Kageyama has a selfie of himself and Tsukishima as his lock screen. Okay. 

Hinata gets dressed faster than he ever has before, and makes sure he has everything in his bag before shoving his feet in his shoes. He doesn’t spare a glance to the other inhabitant in the room, nor is he quiet about leaving, closing the door rather forcefully. In the lobby he spots his coach by the front desk, speaking in hushed tones with the woman who had greeted them last night. 

“Mornin’ Coach-bayashi!” He doesn’t mean to shout, really he doesn’t. “Are we all set to go? Should I go wake everyone else?” 

The two adults— _older_ adults, Hinata was almost twenty-one now—share a look, one he doesn’t like. Coach tries to talk around it: The engine was frozen, the mechanic was in the next town over, lots of tourist attractions. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the team wasn’t going anywhere right now. 

“The dining hall is open,” the woman behind the counter says. “Feel free to have whatever you like.”

“Thank you,” Hinata says politely, flashing her a smile that feels heavy at the corners. He bypasses the stairs and continues on further inside the inn, passing the lobby bathroom, then hanging a right down the hall. The dining hall is empty safe for an elderly couple seated in a booth near the kitchen. Hinata falls into a chair at a small table by the floor to ceiling windows and puts his head in his hands. 

As far as disasters go, this was pretty par for the course. Stuck out in a nowhere town, no proper clothes or bathroom comforts, staying the night in what has to be a haunted hotel turned bed and breakfast. Hinata didn’t care much for the woodsy aesthetic, preferring modern appliances and bullet trains to carriage rides and sprawling woods with sugar snow dusted treetops. With a quiet sigh he pulls out his phone, anxious fingers typing out a message. 

 

**Hinata [7:28 AM]**  
It wasn’t as bad as I thought but still bad. I didn’t sleep at all! Too cold :(((( 

**Hinata [ 7:31 AM]**  
we’re staying another night here. the bus has hypothermia and the nearest mechanic isn’t Close Enough 

 

Even though it seemed like no one else was awake at this hour, Kenma texts back in record time. 

 

**Kenmeow [7:35 AM]**  
Damn. Who are you eating first? 

**Kenmeow [7:37 AM]**  
I recommend the coach. Authorities always try to keep the peace and it never ends well for them. Be merciful. 

**Hinata [7:42 AM]**  
Stop trying to make cannibalism happen! It’s never gonna happen! 

 

“Didn’t expect to see you up this early.”

A cup of coffee is suddenly placed in front of him, and Hinata whips around to find the source of the mysterious beverage. 

“Oh,” he breathes, then clears his throat. “Hey, Mori. Good morning.” He manages a more genuine smile for his teammate who sits across from him, a similar cup in his big hand. 

Mori had finally been made a starter last fall. His dedication as a libero was unwavering, but he wasn’t strict. He was pretty funny, and rather easy on the eyes with his curly brown hair and sweet smile. A little tall for his position, but that hasn’t stopped him yet. Hinata has been caught more than once looking his way after practice matches. He’s even gotten some looks back. 

“Morning,” Mori says after taking a long sip of his coffee. He likes it straight with two sugars, sometimes one depending on the kind of night he’s had. “And here I was thinking we’d be on the road by now.” 

Hinata laughs, though it sounds a little dry. “You’re telling me? I’ve got a mini mountain of laundry back at the dorms. I’m pretty sure some new germ is cultivating in my gym socks.” 

In reality, cleaning was the farthest thing from his mind right now. He was more worried about spending another night sharing a bed with–

“—Kageyama?”

Hinata jerks backwards, wide eyes scanning the room. “What? Where?” It was too early for this! He was tired and easily provoked and he _did not_ want to explain the pillow thing. It was just a precaution! Hinata often moved around in his sleep and he didn’t want to wake up sprawled across Kageyama like some jellyfish. It was never a problem _before_. But things weren’t like they were Before. 

Mori coughs into the rim of his cup. “I said you bunked with Kageyama, right? Last night.”

_Oh._ “Y-yeah, I did.” 

“How was that? He didn’t give you shit about the game, did he?” Mori frowns, drumming his fingers on the table. Hinata becomes aware of his own hands in that moment, and draws them closer towards himself. His phone vibrates next to his coffee cup but he doesn’t pick it up. 

The game. _That_ had been a disgrace sprinkled with disappointment and wrapped inside misfortune. A nightmare burrito. 

But Hinata is already shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t—he didn’t say anything.” Which isn’t completely true, but it wasn’t what Mori seemed to be thinking. If anything, Kageyama _should’ve_ given him grief about it. He had been slow, much too slow after all these years. After all their years together. It was unfair, playing like that when they both knew he was leagues above their opponents. 

Sensing the mood threatening to drop, Mori leans forward across the table, setting his lips in a thin, serious line. “Last night I dreamt the bear in the painting above our door offered me fish in exchange for taking out his brother in law.” 

A startled giggle rings out around the room. “Oh my god?” The contrast between Mori’s words and his voice has Hinata’s lips twitching into an unconscious smile. “Take out like, like an assassin? A _bear_ assassin?” 

“Uh huh. Only I was naked for some reason.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So I was a _bare_ bear assassin.” 

Hinata rests his chin in his hand and covers up his smile. He really liked Mori. The other boy reminded him of Tanaka in a way, always trying to cheer him up and make him forget about his troubles for a little while. Last night he had hoped the two of them would share a room, because..

“Okay.” Hinata spreads his hands out in front of him. “What if! You were assigned to kill shaved bears?” 

“Well then _obviously_ I’d be a bare _bare bear_ assassin.” 

It’s not that funny but Hinata laughs like it is, and Mori smiles at him like he knows why Hinata is laughing so much. 

They’re flirting. They have to be, right? Hinata doesn’t know because he never _tried_ to flirt on purpose because he never needed to. Mori looks at his hands like he wants to hold them, or compare them to his own. Hinata tries to find the courage to make the first move, to take a chance on something with someone he _knows_ likes him like that, and wouldn’t be afraid to let others see it. 

“There you are!” A voice calls out from behind Hinata. He watches Mori’s lighthearted expression cloud over with annoyance for a split second before his easy smile returns. Hinata glances behind him and wishes he hadn’t. 

Matsuo, their team’s captain and best middle blocker. Tall, tan, well built with broad shoulders and long, strong legs. He’s got a track record with the school’s track team almost as impressive as his jump serve, with a blinding smile and an annoyingly endearing charm that no one so far has been able to resist. 

And he’s got his arm looped through Kageyama’s like they’re buddies on a middle school field trip. 

Kageyama leans into him, half asleep with his head lolling to the side. Hinata looks away, down at the table. He doesn’t want Mori to see whatever expression he can’t hide just yet. But the other boy isn’t even looking at him anymore. 

“Here we are,” Mori says. “Can we help you, Captain?” The title is a little sour coming from him, and suddenly the atmosphere changes. Mori’s foot touches his under the table, and Hinata’s hand twitches into his, thankfully empty, cup, sending it flying. 

Kageyama snorts tiredly, barely able to keep his eyes open. It’s easy to look at him like this, but harder too, considering the company he keeps. There are bags under his eyes and his lips are chapped and cracked down the middle. Hinata fights to not lick his own. 

“I’m taking Kageyama out on a little breakfast date!” Matsuo grins, leaning his head to rest on Kageyama’s. “I wanted to know if you’d like to come along.” 

Kageyama blinks, coming to life like a computer, and side steps out of Matsuo’s space. “And just like that, you’ve lost me.” He stretches and yawns, wide mouthed like a whale shark. Hinata looks away, something dangerously like fondness crawling up his throat. 

“We met the tow truck driver before he left with Coach,” Kageyama explains. “Said there’s a pretty good meat bun stand not too far from here. Captain offered to buy some, and I knew Hinata was awake.” The quiet doesn’t last long, but it’s long enough for Matsuo to throw his arm around Kageyama’s shoulders, and for Kageyama to lean back into him. 

Hinata jumps to his feet, gripping tight to his phone. “That sounds great! Are you hungry, Mori?” Anything to leave this space, any change of scenery where those two aren’t so close and the air isn’t so stale and his face isn’t so hot! 

Outnumbered three to one, Mori has no choice but to agree. He and Hinata return upstairs to get their coats, and then the four of them leave the warmth of the inn to brave the harsh elements of slush and freshly fallen snow. Up ahead, Kageyama and Matsuo are nearly joined at the hip. Kageyama’s hand twitches like he doesn’t know where to put it, and all the while Matsuo smiles knowingly at their setter. 

 

**Kenmeow [8:12 AM]**  
I find it beneficial to consume my enemies before they start causing me trouble.

 

 

The little village is just as picturesque as the Inn itself, further proof that they’ve somehow managed to fit inside of a snow globe. All the shops are run by people who live on the mountain; the bookstore with the candles in the windows, the sweets shop with a little bucket filled with spicy cinnamon candy sitting by the door, the _haberdashery_. Every building is a different shade of brown with oddly colored stained glass windows and misshapen doors. He’s pretty sure from above the entire place looks like a little gathering of gingerbread houses. 

Kageyama hates it. 

He was never one for these types of places, these tourist traps. Because that’s what they were. Sure, they were fun and different in the beginning, special, magical even depending on who you ask. Little towns like these could make a businessman weep and regret all those hours spent wasting away in a cubicle. But only for so long. The woman at the Inn said they get the most traffic around the holidays, when families and couples wanted to take things easy for a while. A day or two, maybe a week at most to soak in all of the ‘authentic’ little village life. 

Sooner or later that spark will flicker and die, leaving nothing but a shadow of happier times. Kageyama didn’t want that. He didn’t want a temporary reprieve from the struggles of daily life. He wanted stability and loyalty, a connection, _history_. He wanted to find the good in an otherwise shitty day, not run away from it entirely. He misses the days when he used to be stronger than this. He misses home, and he doesn’t mean the dorms back on campus. 

Matsuo is a steady fixture by his side as they amble along down the road. The streets are barren of any cars or carriages, so they’re free to walk in the road without fear. Kageyama feels his hand bump against the back of his for what feels like the tenth time since they started walking, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. 

“Hey, Kageyama?” Matsuo keeps his voice low, and briefly glances behind them to where Hinata and Mori bring up the rear. “You good?”

Kageyama frowns. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” Aside from getting next to no sleep and being woken up by loud music he’s doing great! Waking up alone in a cold bed with pillows where a person was meant to be was just fine. Everything was fucking _peachy_. 

Matsuo shrugs, kicking up a pile of mostly powder with his boot. “I dunno. You were with Hinata last night, yeah?”

“We shared the room, yes.” 

“I know how he gets after bad games. I just want to make sure he didn’t try to blame you for anything.” Their hands knock together again and Kageyama grabs his mainly out of frustration. It’s a mistake, he knows so when Matsuo squeezes and tries to lace their fingers together. Kageyama resists, swallow his heart until it settles behind his lungs again. 

“He wouldn’t.. no. Hinata didn’t say anything about the game.” Not a lie really. Saying Kageyama played like shit wasn’t a lie, because he had. “And even if he did I can handle criticism.” 

He looks up at Matsuo, and finds he’s already being watched. Their captain is tall, with soft, wavy hair that he dyes different colors every few months. Right now it’s teal, like the macaroons Yachi made for his birthday last month. His eyes are rather pretty, a green-grey that seem to change color depending on the weather. Matsuo has a strong jawline and a straight nose and nice lips, if a little on the thinner side. Kageyama wonders if they’re warm like his hand or soft like his hair. 

“No eye fucking in front of the children,” an annoyed Mori speaks up from behind them. “Thought you said this wasn’t a date?” His question is at Kageyama but his eyes are on their intertwined hands. 

Kageyama looks behind him, at his teammate, at Hinata who hasn’t said a word since they started walking. He and Mori are close, shoulders bumping together every few steps, but neither of them move to correct it. Matsuo scoffs under his breath, mumbling something not even Kageyama can hear. 

“It’s not a date,” Kageyama says to the group at large. “We’re friends. Friends can hold hands if they want, and it doesn’t have to be anything more than that.” He sounds defensive even to his own ears. With a grimace Kageyama releases Matsuo and shoves his hands deep within his jacket pockets. Matsuo doesn’t protest. 

Despite all of his teasing and flirting, the captain has never rushed him when it came to his feelings. They’ve been close, physically, off and on again for a few months now, arms touching legs touchings hands touching shoulders. They haven’t kissed or anything like that, but in a way that felt more intimate. And scary. Kageyama couldn’t always handle that kind of attention, and he knows that suddenly avoiding someone for seemingly no reason is a major turn off. But Matsuo doesn’t question him. He doesn’t accuse him of disliking him or faking his feelings. He just lets Kageyama have his space. 

Mori remains unimpressed by his words, but he shifts his focus to Matsuo. “Wow, _Captain_ , who haven’t you made a move on yet?” 

Hinata still hasn’t spoken a word, whether to agree or disagree or change the subject like he normally would. He’s quiet these days, at least when Kageyama is around to see him. Their class schedules this year didn’t line up at all, and he can’t be certain that’s a coincidence. Still, even at practice he seems subdued, less excitable and more..mature. It’s so different from what Kageyama knows. What he used to know. 

“Between the four of us? Well–“

Kageyama rolls his eyes, quickening his pace when a blast of cold air snakes under the gaps between his scarf and his coat. “Admitting to this is not how you’ll get a second date.” 

Matsuo and his long legs keep up with him easily. “Are you saying this _is_ our first date, then?” 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Kageyama bares his teeth in what used to be his signature scary smile. Matsuo just laughs, but he won’t look at him directly anymore. Kageyama thinks he’s happy about this. 

“But you do know our love is inevitable, right?” 

“What the hell?” For once he and Mori are on the same page. 

“It’s like one of those unwritten rules. A setter always ends up dating their captain.”

 

_”Congratulations, Tobio-chan! Your boyfriend is the captain as well as the ace. You’ve struck gold.”_

_“What does that even mean?”_

 

Kageyama furrows his brow. “Wh– _no_? What kind of rule book are you reading?” He hopes his red cheeks look sheepish instead of embarrassed for being called out. Just because it happened with Daichi and Suga, And Akashi with Bokuto, and Oikawa with himself, didn’t mean it was some kind of play by Fate. “Besides, you’re not my type.”

His heart is hammering in his chest and he hopes no one can hear it. Was this flirting still? Playfully hard to get, a challenge, that’s what guys liked right? Matsuo is smirking so he must be doing it right. Did he want to be doing it right? 

“No offense, Captain, but you’re a bit egotistical, overly dramatic, whiny–“

“Sounds exactly like your type.”

Kageyama whips his head to the right and there he is, Hinata, walking by his side as if he’s always been there. Like he wasn’t trailing behind him like a silent ghost for the past twenty minutes. Like these aren’t the first words he’s spoken directly to Kageyama since last night. 

“What did you just say?” Kageyama’s feet no longer carry him forward. Sharp winds push his bangs to the side, allowing him to glimpse all of Hinata. His eyes are wide and vacant, but a storm rolls in behind them. Kageyama’s heart kicks up into a jog. 

“The grand king is like that too, right?” A rhetorical question because Kageyama knows that Hinata knows what Oikawa was like on the court. “You had a thing for him.” 

Kageyama closes his eyes, wanting to hide the emotions there, but his face feels hot and he knows his cheeks must be red. How did know that? _Why_ does he know that?! 

“Uhh, guys?” Matsuo chuckles nervously. “Can we save the anime showdown for practice?” 

Kageyama continues on as if the captain never spoke. “So what if I did?” 

**Did** as in the past, as in he doesn’t anymore. Why should he be embarrassed by something he’s already accepted? Why should he care what others think when only he can know his true feelings? Why does Hinata get to push these buttons when god and everyone else knows that if their roles were reversed he’d have a fucking firing squad on him in two seconds flat! 

“So you have a type.” Hinata doesn’t say it meanly but with an air of authority. As if he knows. As if he knows anything about him anymore. He doesn’t! _He doesn’t!_

Kageyama trips a few steps forward, raising a shaking hand up to Hinata’s face. He doesn’t know _anything_ about him anymore. How could he? Hinata wanted walls so Kageyama respected their new boundaries so how _dare he_ say anything about—

“Look!” Mori grabs Hinata’s arm with one hand and points with the other. “The meatbun cart! Last one there pays for everyone!” He takes off running, pulling Hinata along with him. 

Kageyama’s feet start moving again and he quickens up his pace, shoulders hunched in, lips set in a scowl, but just like last night his energy leaves him before he’s even halfway there. He doesn’t look at Matsuo once they reach the cart. He doesn’t look at anyone. 

He doesn’t have a _type_. That’s the entire problem. 

The meatbun cart is actually that, an honest to god cart tucked in between a coat shop and the tiniest little market Kageyama has ever seen. True to his word, and to possibly defuse the tension, Matsuo buys them all one, handing the bag over to Kageyama while he digs in his pocket for his wallet. Without thinking about it, even as upset as he is, Kageyama takes one before thrusting the bag into Hinata’s hands. Purely muscle memory. 

They continue on down the road, passing a bakery and a place that advertises fresh cider. The deeper into the heart of the village they get the farther back in time they seem to go. Kageyama half expects to see a blacksmith’s forge or an old pub with three entrances but five exists. 

“I haven’t had one of these since freshman year,” Matsuo moans with his mouth full. “Were they always this good?”

Mori nibbles at his, barely breaking through the dough, while Hinata eats in silence. Kageyama unwraps his and takes two big bites, chewing loud and obnoxiously. The meat is beef, hot and a little sweet. The dough holds everything in place but it isn’t rubbery or too sticky. Not bad for a snow globe town. 

“I’ve had better,” he says when he finishes, feeling less hungry but not quite satisfied. From the corner of his eye he sees Mori offering Hinata his hardly touched bun, smiling in what he thinks is an endearingly sheepish way. Kageyama thinks he looks constipated. 

“Better than freshly made right in front of your damn face? Where?” Matsuo seems to be savoring his, taking tiny bites as they head back to the Inn. Kageyama always eats his in two or three bites, maybe five if he feels like taking his time. And Hinata...well he couldn’t speak for him anymore. 

“Back home in Miyagi,” he says into the collar of his coat. “There’s this place our team would walk to after most practices. Best pork buns you’ll ever have.” His warm breath turns to mist in front of him, and for a moment he thinks he can see Sakanoshita Store in the distance. 

Mori hums, eyeing him suspiciously. He has his arm around Hinata’s shoulders, but he doesn’t know how to adjust for their difference in height, so it keeps slipping. “I never pegged you as the sentimental type, Kageyama-san. I gotta say I’m surprised.” 

“He’s right,” Hinata says before Kageyama can bite this guy’s ear off. “These are good, but nothing beats the ones back home.” 

There’s pride in his voice, and longing, and Kageyama can’t stop himself from looking at him. Hinata looks back, and a wave of understanding passes between them. Always defend your home turf. 

“Of course you agree,” Matsuo shoots at Hinata. “You’re from the same place.” He starts walking backwards, his nose lifted in the air in superiority. Kageyama is pretty sure he’s joking. Probably. “I was born and raised in Tokyo, and Tokyo has the best food, so I think I know what I’m talking abOUT!”

Matsuo cries out in surprise when a hidden patch of ice takes his feet out from under him. He throws his hands out to catch himself, tossing his half eaten meatbun aside in the process. It lands in the street like a water balloon, beef splattering all over the cobblestone. 

Kageyama laughs so hard he doubles over, pointing at the once intact meatbun with tears in his eyes. He makes to help Matsuo to his feet but falls to his hands and knees instead, snorting and coughing. “H-holy shit!” He catches his breath, only to lose it all over again when he looks at the remains of the meatbun. 

Matsuo’s cheeks are dusted red, but from the amazed look in his eyes it isn’t because of the cold. Two years on the same team and he’s never seen Kageyama laugh like this, has never seen him smile this wide. 

“Guess you need to hold my hand after all?” He says when Kageyama finally gets himself under control. The setter pulls his captain to his feet and they help dust each other off. Up ahead, Hinata and Mori have continued on without them. 

Kageyama does take his hand this time, going so far as to link their arms as well. “Just don’t drag me down with you next time, okay?” He smiles freely now, and Matsuo tightens his grip on him. 

He waits for the everpresent, twisty nervous uncomfortable feeling that always accompanied physical contact in public, but it’s gone. All he feels is a little bit giggly and a little bit lightheaded, but good. He feels good. 

“I’m not worried,” Matsuo says, his lips suddenly _very_ close to Kageyama’s ear. “As long as you’re here it’s like I’m invincible.” He grins, unaware of the weight of his words. 

He doesn’t feel good anymore. 

 

 

The rest of the morning is blissfully uneventful, which bleeds into a lazy afternoon. Hinata spends it all in the room, texting Kenma, watching dance videos, and reveling in the peace and quiet. The rest of the team goes out to explore the village. Mori doesn’t come find him. Kageyama stays away. It gives him a lot of time to think. 

Two years is a long time to get over something, and for the most part he has. It was hard in the beginning, harder still when his feelings refused to cooperate with what he knew was right. Things got better, as they always did, but in between then and now, Hinata made a mistake, one he regrets now more than he regrets anything else. 

During a time of great vulnerability and fear, he confided in Mori about things he probably should’ve kept to himself. Back when they were just entering university, when everything was new and scary and his friends were two trains away and the only person from his past was the last person he wanted to see, Mori was there. 

He made it quite clear that he was interested in Hinata. Not in an overly showy way like a certain captain of theirs, but privately when they were alone. At the time Hinata had rejected the idea of doing anything more than just walking to and from practice together, but Mori wasn’t deterred. He respected Hinata, and remained a good friend. Which is probably where the wires got crossed. 

The first four months of his freshman year were his lowest, because he was at his _meanest_. Hinata never thought he would be one of those exes who talked shit about their former partner, but he was. And what makes things worse is that, at the time, he believed every awful thing he said about Kageyama Tobio. 

**_He never listened!! He’s a hot headed, egotistical, tyrannical nightmare! The first time we kissed he bit me like a dog, it took him weeks to stop slobbering all over my mouth with his gross, huge tongue, and he kept pulling my hair! I know some people are into that but I’m short and I’m so tired of people ruffling my hair like I’m a fucking child! He chews with his mouth open, he can’t dance, and he wouldn’t hold my hand at all until three months into our relationship! Do you know what that feels like?!_ **

Mori had listened to it all. 

And while Hinata eventually grew out of his misplaced anger and hurt, Mori seems to have taken it upon himself to be some kind of heartbreak guardian. Kageyama should’ve kicked his ass in the village today, but he didn’t. Mori thinks he saved him from an altercation, but Hinata knew Kageyama would never hurt him like that. They had fought and wrestled back in Karasuno but that was always mutual, not that it made things any better. But Kageyama wouldn’t have hurt him, of that he is positively certain. Kageyama wasn’t the problem here, he never was. 

The problem was other people. Because other people were always the problem. 

“Hinata?” Mori’s voice reaches him from outside the door. “There’s dinner downstairs in the dining room. Do you want me to bring you something?” 

Hinata rolls over onto his stomach and checks the time on his phone. He’s been sleeping off and on without any interruptions, so the concept of time slipped away from him. He considers pretending to be asleep, but then scolds himself. This wasn’t Mori’s or anyone else’s fault or situation to deal with. No matter how he felt he couldn’t act this way. Not when they were stranded in a tourist trap with no dorms to escape to. Later he could return to solitude, tomorrow even, but not now. 

“No, I’ll be right down,” he calls out, sitting up. He waits to hear retreating footsteps, and rolls his eyes when he gets nothing. Hinata does his business in the bathroom, shoves his feet into his shoes, and opens the door. Mori, leaning against the opposite wall, perks up when he sees him. Hinata tries not to scowl. 

The dining hall is packed with nineteen, fully grown college men, most of which over the height of five foot nine, with one irritated outlier. (The team learned not to tease Hinata about his height after one day in practice when he _bodied_ Yamada, who is six foot five). The team occupies the booths in the back so as not to disturb the paying guests. He spots Kageyama under Matsuo’s arm and wants to stab out his eyes with the butter knife in front of him. 

He has no right to be jealous. 

Mori is adamant about sitting with them though, and not for the first time, Hinata wonders about his relationship with the captain. But then a burger is being placed in front of him and he literally can’t focus on anything besides getting it inside of him as quickly as possible. When he’s eating he doesn’t have to make conversation or smile or be animated or give away parts of himself. All he has to do is eat. 

Maybe it’s the nostalgic combination of food and close quarters, but sitting with his team like this reminds him of high school, of Karasuno. Back when things were simple and he loved volleyball more than anything else. Back when his friends were closer and he saw them everyday. Back when he had people he could trust. He watches Kageyama type away on his phone and push away Matsuo when he looks at his screen. He sees a flash of a name, one he recognizes, and feels his stomach twist into knots. Everyone is suddenly too close and the air is too thin and Mori sat on the end to keep him trapped! He just wants to eat! 

“So,” Matsuo says loudly enough to get the team’s attention. “Coach called about an hour ago. He said he won’t be back with the bus until morning.” 

Groans and complaints rise up all around him, and all Hinata can think is _Mood_. He does his best to tune them out, digging deep until all he can focus on are his own thoughts. It’s what he did to survive history last year, and—

A warm hand touches his bare arm and Hinata flinches, dropping the remains of his burger in order to lash out at the unwanted invasion of space.

“ _What?!_ ” 

The voices grow quiet, and Hinata comes to to find three pairs of eyes staring at him. Mori looks shocked, as does Kageyama, but Matsuo seems amused. The two of them have never been on the same page, and Hinata feels on edge after being stuck in one place for too long. He doesn’t know if he can handle this right now. 

“I’d ask if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but that can’t be possible considering how much you’ve slept today.” Matsuo adopts a mockingly disappointed tone. “You used to be so social, Shouyou. Or was that just an act to worm your way into a starter position?” 

Mori bristles next to him, eyes narrowing in a glare. If Hinata were a cartoon character his face would transform into an overflowing thermometer. His hands curl into tight fists, nails digging into his palms. 

“You’re one to ta–!”

“This kind of childish behaviour is very unattractive.” Kageyama sounds like a voice recording his voice is so monotone. His eyes are still glued to his phone, so he misses the annoyed look on Matsuo’s face before it’s replaced by a smirk. 

“Who told you that, your boyfriend?” Quicker than Hinata expected, Matsuo snatches Kageyama’s phone from his hand. The setter tries to take it back immediately, his eyes wide and a little panicked. Matsuo barely manages to keep him at bay, struggling through his laughter as he reads the most recent message. 

“”Considering our history, I think I know your body better than most, King.”” Matsuo waggles his eyebrows. “Ohhhh. Seems like this Tsukishima is giving me a run for my money, huh?” 

All at once Hinata’s stomach drops out from under him. He stares blankly at the scene in front of him: Kageyama punching Matsuo as hard as he can before grabbing his phone. He speaks but Hinata can’t hear anything past the rush of blood in his ears. Kageyama climbs over Matsuo in the booth and storms off, knuckles white around his phone. Matsuo rolls his eyes but gets up to follow, calling out his name in that grating, playful tone of his. 

“Are you okay?” Mori asks, taking in the dead eyed stare Hinata still has going on. Mori, who knows too much, who talks when he shouldn’t and stays quiet when he needs to speak. The last person Hinata wants to hear right now. 

“I’m fine,” he lies, not even bothering to get his voice under control. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears but he’s not upset, he can’t be. “Will you get me another drink. Please?” There’s a water pitcher right there on the table, but Mori takes the hint for once and gets up and heads for the vending machine around the corner from the dining hall. Hinata can still feel some of his teammates looking at him now and again, murmuring too low for him to make out what they’re saying. 

Hinata leaves, taking long strides with his short legs, past the vending machine, up the stairs and down the hall to the room at the verry end. He goes inside, shuts the door. And screams. 

Mori doesn’t come find him. Kageyama stays away. It gives him a lot of time to think. 

 

Someone bought alcohol. 

Hinata can hear excited whispers and hurried footsteps from the hall. He doesn’t want anything to do with them, but he also doesn’t want Mori coming to get him like a parent at a child’s birthday party. Besides, he deserves a drink after the day he’s had. 

Everyone piles into Kojima’s room, the largest one anyone of them had, which makes sense since they’re housing six players. Hinata wants to leave as soon as he arrives, but Ueta hands him a plastic cup, takes a closer look at him, then hands him the one in his other hand, too. 

“You need this more than I do,” he says, his lips twisted in a frown. “Try not to kill Captain tonight. But if you do, I’ll help you hide the body.” He nods over to Matsuo, who looks the picture of frat boy elegance with his dirty boots prompted up on the table outside on the balcony. Mori stands above him, like a nagging shadow. Kageyama sits across from him, a can of beer in his hand and two more next to him on the table.

Hinata waves a limp goodbye as Ueta and a few others leave, taking their party down to ten. He downs the half empty cup in three big gulps, grimacing at the taste but grateful for _finally_ having something to do. He takes a seat on the bed closest to the door, the one that’s unoccupied, and lets the disgusting taste of fermented yeast water numb him from the inside out. 

“Yooooooo, Shooooou.” Kojima, tall and lanky with hair down to his shoulders, a disturbing fusion of Lev and Asahi-san, calls out to him from literally three steps away. He’s sprawled across the floor with his fly undone. “Where ya been, Big Ant?” 

Was everyone determined to speak to him today?! Couldn’t he just be ignored for once? Hinata busies himself with finding the bottom of his cup, and by the time he’s finished Kojima has already moved on. He breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Who wants to play spin the bottle!” 

Sigh of relief redacted. 

Like a flock of terribly written female characters in a movie, Hinata’s teammate’s all converge in the middle of the room. Kojima produces a plastic soda bottle from underneath the bed, which is kind of a relief. The last thing they need on their last night is broken glass and blood everywhere. And yet, Hinata isn’t sure if he prefers this in its place. 

“Alright!” Kojima rubs his hands together. “Who’s playin?” He makes a show of licking his lips, earning a smack from Vice Captain Saito. The rest of the team seems to all agree right when Mori enters the room from the balcony. He smiles a little when he sees Hinata and heads right for him, only to be dragged down into Kojimi’s lap. 

“Nice of you to join us _Yasu-chan_ ~” Kojima puts him in a ‘gentle’ headlock. “C’mon, Nata!” He pats the space next to him on the floor, easily keeping Mori within his grasp. “Come bond with your team!” 

Hinata can think of at least twenty seven things he would rather do than ‘bond with his team’, when number 26 himself comes waltzing in from the balcony, bringing with him the smell of smoke. Kageyama “I would never date someone who smokes especially not an athlete” Tobio straggles behind like a puppy being lead by a shock collar. What was with him today? One minute he was all lovey dovey with the guy and the next he was calling him out and pushing him away. It was pissing Hinata off. 

“Starting the orgy without me?” Matsuo sways his hips as he walks, and Hinata catches a few of the guys watching him a bit too closely. “Tobio? Get the lights will you? I’m sure there’s a candle here somewhere..”

Kageyama snorts, tipping his head black to chug the last of his beer. How many has he had now? Four, five? The guy was a mega lightweight, worse than Hinata in freshman year when he threw up after one solo cup of the cheap shit. 

“Nah.” Kageyama licks the stray liquid from his lips. “Rather not, t-hanks.” 

_Oh, my god. Is he drunk?_

“It’s no fun without our control tower,” Matsuo says, stepping around the circle of wide eyed players. It’s like a movie or a car crash or a movie about a car crash. They’re too close, far too close, and Hinata… he just watches along with the rest of them. 

_He’s drunk,_ Hinata thinks when Kageyama doesn’t back away. So damn inconsistent! Hinata digs his fingers into the bedsheets, willing the Kageyama from a few hours ago to reappear. The one who left Matsuo and called him childish, not this hazy eyed, fucking mess of a person! 

“Last thing I need is you fallin’ in’love with me, Su.” Against all odds Kageyama sounds serious. Hinata can feel his heart stuttering, skipping beats then going into double time. They’re still too fucking close but Kageyama isn’t smiling. 

“What if I’m already in love with you?”

“Well then that’s unfortunate,” Kageyama says, still oddly serious. It’s a complete accident when their eyes meet, and Hinata looks away, staring down at his lap. 

 

_There’s hand on his shoulder, barely daring to touch him, a hitched breath that doesn’t come from his own chest. He looks up and sees Kageyama staring down at him, his soft face pale and his eyes wide with fear and hesitation. All around them their teammates tease and taunt, the forgotten cola bottle left abandoned in the middle of the circle._

 

Hinata forces his eyes open at the wrong moment, trading in one nightmare for another. 

Kageyama reaches up and threads his fingers through Matsuo’s hair, his other hand holding his jaw as he pulls him down. The kiss isn’t messy or shy or gentle, but deep and hungry. Before anyone can do anything it’s over. Kageyama puts his hands on Matsuo’s chest and _smiles_ , before pushing him back onto the bed. 

Cheers rise up from the peanut gallery, tipsy and excited and probably more aroused than any of them want to admit. Hinata doesn’t wait to see what happens next, bolting from the room like a trapped animal. He feels sick to his stomach and it has nothing to do with the beer. 

Out in the hall it’s a little easier to breathe, but Hinata doesn’t stop until he’s tucked away in the bathroom of his room. The room he shares with the idiot who just kissed their captain! The scene plays behind his eyes over and over, like a broken record. Hinata rests his head on the shower door and breathes deeply through his nose so he doesn’t start crying. Could today get any worse?! 

Someone knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Go away!” Hinata wipes his face, and is both thankful and surprised when he finds it dry. 

“I can’t leave. This is half my bed.” Kageyama. He sounds tired, a little confused, no doubt looking at the bed and how it’s still divided by those pillows. There really is no way out of this. Unless he plans on sleeping in the bathroom, which doesn’t sound all too bad… 

No! No. He wasn’t gonna run away from this. 

Hinata collects himself off the floor then flings the bathroom door open. Kageyama jumps back, almost falling inside 

“Did ya puke?” 

“What? No! I can handle my drinks unlike _some_ people.” He pushes past Kageyama and it’s like he’s a wall of styrofoam he moves so easily. He wants to keep pushing and shoving him until he falls off a cliff or down the stairs or into bed. But he doesn’t. Because he had made it clear he didn’t want those things with him anymore. 

Kageyama follows him with his eyes. From the mirror Hinata can see him walking slowly to the bed, keeping a hand out in front of him for safety. “Since when are you so good at drinking?” He sits down on the very edge and kicks off his shoes. “You used to get tipsy off the smell of spiked punch.” 

“Since when do you kiss men in public?” Hinata shoots back, the words harsh against the back of his teeth. “You used to push me away whenever I tried.” 

Hinata can only guess at what kind of face he’s making, but he knows what Kageyama looks like: hurt and surprised, vulnerable and something else he can’t read with his blurry vision. Kageyama stares back at him, his lips pressed together in a wobbly line. He doesn’t speak. 

“When were you planning on telling me you hooked up with Tsukishima?” 

He wants to laugh, honestly, because the entire thing is just so fucking ridiculous. Two years ago this would’ve been a sentence spoken by a crazy person. But that insanity has morphed into suspicion, a suspicion that was all but confirmed last spring, when a joke by Yamaguchi caused them both to clam up. And when they looked at each other, Kageyama and Tsukishima, there were embers in their eyes. A flame that wasn’t properly extinguished. Hinata looks into those eyes now and all he sees is smoke. 

“Out of all the people you could’ve had your first time with, and you picked _him_.” 

_Nights spent under the covers, kissing until they ran out of air, holding each other tight. Promising that next time would be the right time. Always next time._

Fuck next time. 

“You’re one to talk,” Kageyama tries twice to stand up before abandoning that plan. He crawls over the bed to where Hinata stands, emotions playing across his face like an old film. “Fuckin hypocrite. _Dumbass._ ” The word stings like it never has before. “When were you gonna tell anybody about what you did with Tanaka and Nish’noya?” 

Hinata surges forward and pushes hard at Kageyama’s shoulders, sending them falling backwards. Big hands catch him before he can smash his chin against a hard shoulder, and he bites his lip hard to keep the tears at bay. 

“Who told you that?” He hates the way his voice sounds, not guilty or ashamed or afraid—because he wasn’t any of those things—but weak, shaky. Vulnerable. He had forgotten what this felt like and it's as unpleasant as ever. 

“Not like it was a big secret.” Up close Kageyama’s eyes look clear, the blue crisp and clear. And sad. 

“You’re everyone’s favorite, why would they be any different?” He pushes Hinata to the side, rolling him off his chest a lot less forcefully than Hinata thought he would. Like back in the village. Kageyama has a lot of physical power but he never uses it against him, not to hurt him, even now. 

“‘Favorite kouhai’ my ass. Or your ass, I guess.”

No, he had learned to use his words to hurt instead. 

“They were trying to make me feel better, you absolute asshole!” He rears back and swings his fist as hard as he can into Kageyama’s chest. Then he does it again. And again and again until Kageyama catches his wrists and squeezes hard. 

“So it’s okay for you to have sex but not me?” He doesn’t yell but Hinata wishes he would. “It’s fine for you to be sheltered like a damn princess but I can’t spend a weekend with someone who doesn't hate me?”

_Shut up shut up shut up!_ Hinata digs his elbow into Kageyama’s stomach when the man refuses to release his hands. “Fuck off! Since when did Tsukishima _stop_ hating you?” 

“When everyone else started to!” 

Kageyama shoves him away again and scrambles to get away from him, to put space between them. Hinata struggles to reorient himself, his socked feet slipping against the sheets. “What the hell?! No one hates you!” 

Kageyama shakes his head and keeps shaking it even after he falls off the bed in his hurry to get to his shoes. “Tell that to your guardians. They get five feet up my ass about ‘keeping you happy’ and ‘protecting you’ like you’re some kind of pet. Like I don’t deserve–“ He chokes back his words and forgoes tying his shoes after the third attempt. 

Hinata wants to scream and rage and break that painting above the door over Kageyama’s stupid head. Doesn’t he know how much he hates that? Doesn’t he know how sick and tired he was of being the ‘pure’ one, the innocent one, the stupid one? Having their senpai make hand gestures and stop conversations when he walked into the room, having people poke his face and pinch his baby fat despite all the practice he put in to work it off? He doesn’t avoid old team meet ups because Kageyama is invited, he avoids them because no matter how hard he tries to change, everyone has a different version of him in their minds. The wrong one. 

“Where are you going?” Hinata tries to sound angry but he can’t. He wants to drag Kageyama back and punch him until his arms grow heavy and all the hurt is gone. Kageyama doesn’t get close enough to grab again, and Hinata thinks that if he moves from his spot on the bed he’ll do something he’ll regret. 

“Kageyama!” He points a trembling finger at him. “I swear to god if you leave this room I’ll–“

“Break up with me?” Kageyama throws the door open so hard it bounces against the wall and hits him in the shoulder. He doesn’t even flinch. “A little late for that.” 

He leaves. His shoes are untied and he’s wearing an old t-shirt and shorts and he’s leaving. 

 

_He’s standing on the steps of the second gym and he’s leaving. It’s their last practice ever, and he’s leaving. What feels like the entire team is breathing down Hinata’s neck and glaring at the lone, retreating figure in the spring sun. He’s leaving._

 

The tears come fast, burning trails down his cheeks. The back of his throat is sore from keeping it bottled up, and his chest feels tight and full of ash, and he’s suffocating in it. 

Hinata roars and flings a pillow as hard as he can at the space where Kageyama used to be, slamming the door shut in the process. He takes another and yells into it until his ears pop, wet, angry wails that steal his energy and oxygen and sanity. It feels like cheap bandages are slowly being peeled off, one by one, taking layers of his skin and leaving behind sensitive, hot and sticky pink patches in their wake. 

He waits up for Kageyama to come back. But he doesn’t. He keeps his phone charged in case Kageyama texts him. But he doesn’t. He tries to tell himself there’s no reason to be upset when everything they said was true. But he is. 

He texts Kenma, because he doesn’t know what to do now. 

 

**Hinata [11:50 PM]**  
Does Kuroo know that Tsukishima slept with Kageyama? 

**Kenmeow [12:02 AM]**  
That. 

**Kenmeow [12:02 AM]**  
Sounds like a question you should ask him yourself. You know how I feel about that stuff. 

**Hinata [12:02 AM]**  
Kenma pls I need to know it’s important PLZ 

**Kenmeow [12:03 AM]**  
Ok ok fine hang on 

**Kenmeow [12:20 AM]**  
“Yea Kei told me”

**Kenmeow [12:23 AM]**  
Now will you tell me what this is about? What happened with Kageyama? Why does this suddenly matter?

**Kenmeow [12:33 AM]**  
What’s going on your scaring me 

**Kenmeow [1:01 AM]**  
Shouyou? 

 

 

In the morning the team boards the bus without incident. Hinata sits in the very back with the rest of the bags, in the one person seat by the rear doors. He watches the little village disappear and give way to trees and hills covered in snow. He doesn’t sleep even though he wants to. He doesn’t check his messages even though he wants to. He doesn’t throw himself out of the emergency hatch even though he wants to. 

He can’t stop thinking about everything that happened last night, even though he wants to.


	2. February: One Hour After Breakup

Kageyama can’t breathe. 

His lungs are filled with shards of glass that puncture and rip apart the soft flesh. He can taste copper on the back of his tongue, like swallowing old pennies, as he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his sobs hidden. 

It’s quiet here behind the gym. Bittersweet and stinging. They’re graduating so soon, too soon, and thinking about this gym makes him want to plant himself in the ground and grow roots. He doesn’t want to move four hours away and play on a team with new faces. He doesn’t want to start over again, doesn’t want to gain the approval of strangers, doesn’t want to reset his playing style. He doesn’t want things to change. 

He doesn’t want to see Hinata if he can’t love him anymore. 

If he knew where they would end up, if he knew that this week of constant fighting would lead to this—hissing and hurling cruel words at each other on the corner where their lives met and crashed like a wave—he would’ve never confessed in the first place. Because no amount of happiness and laughter and first kisses can make up for the look in Hinata’s eyes when he left him. Flat, empty brown, like they were drawn onto his pale, tear stained face. 

The wind picks up, blowing little snow flurries into Kageyama’s eyes. He hugs his knees close to his chest and lets a few of the louder cries escape, his voice masked by the elements. The stone wall of the gym is solid against his back, a comfort he knows he can’t indulge in forever. 

He couldn’t go home after watching Hinata disappear up the hill and out of his life. Not when his chest was filling up with blood and his throat grew so tight it was like breathing through a straw. He couldn’t greet his mother with a kiss on the cheek when the only color he could see was brown. Not brown like valentines chocolates, or the golden honey eyes that shone in the sunlight. Dingy motel carpet brown that smelled like cigarettes and vomit. He couldn’t go home until he gathered himself together. So he went back to the gym, the only place he’s ever felt truly safe. 

Karasuno was the first team he truly felt he belonged to. Things were never easy or fast, but he earned his spot as a starting player, just like he’d earned the trust and friendship of his teammates. What will they think when word gets out that the super freak duo are now flying solo? A violent shiver wracks his body at the thought. 

The words they threw at each other, harmful and poisonous, try to rip into his brain but he’s too numb to remember them. It all happened so fast, like a slap in the face. The way Hinata glared at him like he did back before they knew each other. The way he flinched under his touch. The way his eyes grew wide with horror as Kageyama turned away from him. The split second of realization, of regret, that would’ve made Kageyama fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he stayed on his feet, barely, as Hinata got on his bike and pedaled as hard and fast as he could.

And he watched, standing on the edge of the corner. _Their_ corner, where the paths to their homes drew them apart. The place where they met in the mornings and raced to school, the place where they’ve kissed countless times under the streetlight that sometimes flickered like a firefly. The place where they’ve sat on the curb and talked for hours, about school and the team and the future and each other. 

That corner was the final resting place of their relationship. 

Kageyama feels the tears building up again, the loud and embarrassing cries of a child, the ones that followed stern scoldings as a toddler or dramatic accidents on the playground. He grits his teeth and tries to will away the hurt, the anger and confusion, the overwhelming need to to be protected. 

He wants his dad to hold him like he did when Kageyama was nine and broke his wrist falling into the river. He had just gotten serious about volleyball, and now his world had collapsed all around him, because surely he’d never play volleyball like this. He could never play if he was this weak. 

He went on to play with the best people he could’ve asked for, but hadn’t known that at nine, and neither did his father, but he held him and told him everything would be okay. He didn’t hush his sniffling in the waiting room, he didn’t berate him for getting down on himself when easy tasks turned difficult. He made his cast look like a power glove and he helped him get dressed and made him laugh. And when the cast came off he practiced playing with him before dinner, and on weekends when he wasn’t so busy with work. 

Kageyama desperately needs him now, needs that unconditional love and understanding and warmth. He wants to run home and cry into his shoulder like he did when he was nine and twelve and fifteen. He wants to stuff his face with homemade sugar cookies and fill his belly with hot chocolate and he wants his dad to rub his back while his mom tells him a story about when they first discovered they were having him. He wants to feel important and loved. He wants to ask them what he did wrong. 

But he can’t. 

Because he never told his dad about Hinata. He hadn’t told anyone outside of the team. He never spoke a word to his parents about the boy who changed his life. His partner who rebirthed him as a new king, a kinder one. His best friend, who despite all the arguing and fighting had never given up on him. The person he loved more than anyone else. They knew nothing about him. 

And now their past will fade, slowly, like the familiar scent of soap on his pillow, or the memory of small fingers laced with his own. Their story will die like the streetlamp above their heads, growing dimmer and dimmer with each passing night, until it is old and dead and removed. Gone. Gone like the figure on the bike that raced away from his outstretched hand. 

Kageyama doesn’t know how long he sits there, hidden behind the one place that used to feel safe, covered in snow and cold tears and snot. He stands eventually, and after staring at the bricks where the team wrote their names right before going to Nationals in his first year, he moves. 

Realistically the corner will still be there in the morning. Avoiding it will not erase tonight. But Kageyama likes to believe he’s built up enough good karma to deserve this numb peace as he walks two blocks out of the way before turning onto the street that’ll take him home. 

He doesn’t think about the sound of bike tires or the skipping steps of feet much lighter than his. He doesn’t think about the face he’s memorized for three years. He doesn’t try to remember their fight—their last fight ever, not because he doesn’t know every word and facial expression and body movement, but because no matter how he tries to analyze it, it ends up being the simplest thing in the universe. Ironic, really, how this world ending fight was just like all the others. 

Hinata had yelled. He had yelled back. 

And then they were over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Time: originally I had written up to chapter four, had them all done and planned to post once a month, since I had each chapter taking place during a different month. But the more time I spent away from chapter one, the more the story changed in my head, and the endgame no longer had a proper road to follow. So I rewrote chapter two! Which is very different from chapter one. And I didn’t rewrite three and four, because I’m lazy, and because those chapters focus more on Hinata and Kageyama outside of each other. All of this to say I’m sorry it took so long lol. Any feedback and comments are very much appreciated!

Hinata never used to care much about his nails. As a child his mother clipped them for him every few weeks until he was old enough to run away in defiance. Then he started biting them, a nervous habit that turned into a cathartic pastime. There was something so satisfying about getting the perfect peel under his teeth. But then Kageyama caught him at it one day after practice and almost had a stroke. He yelled at him for twenty minutes straight, then sat him down on the bench and started filing them. 

“It’s better if you keep them uniform rather than clipping every few weeks,” he had said, waving a fancy glass file because it was safer than sandpaper. “And _stop biting them!_ Do you have any idea how many germs are under your nails? No wonder you’re always puking so much.”

Hinata hadn’t understood then why his hands felt all tingly when Kageyama held them. He didn’t know why it felt so nice to have his undivided attention without a volleyball in between them. He didn’t know that he would develop a _thing_ for hands, because that’s not the kind of stuff you notice at sixteen, curled up next to your best friend, a comfortable silence enveloping you both. 

He notices now. 

“I think I’ll get half olive and half mushroom,” Mori tells him, tapping his fingers on the table in a steady, repeated rhythm. “What about you?”

Pinky, ring, middle, pointer, pinky ring middle pointer. PinkyRingMiddlePointer. Hinata tells himself it's a nervous habit so he doesn’t lash out and stab them with his fork. 

“Extra cheese with ham and pineapple,” Hinata says, using the menu to hide his face while he forces himself back to the present. “And don’t make that face, I’m valid.” 

They’re in a corner booth at the pizza place near campus, tall glasses of water resting mostly untouched. Hinata had wanted to order his regular kiwi lemonade, and in an ideal world Mori would get strawberry and they’d mix them together. But Mori didn’t like lemonade, which yeah, threw Hinata for a loop. He didn’t want pop either, even though Saturday was cheat day. So Hinata got ice water with lemon and Mori got ice water without lemon and no one is drinking their water. 

Today marks their third official date as a pair of people who decided to go on dates. Their first was after The Game That Went To Shit, after they left The Village Of Bad Choices. Mori surprised him with vending machine snacks after the first practice of the new year, and they ate in the gym after everyone else had gone. 

Their second date, which Hinata hesitates to even put a label on, was sitting huddled together listening to a podcast after Hinata broke down crying after failing a pop quiz. He isn’t proud of it, clinging to Mori with the crumpled piece of paper at his feet, but it was...nice. It was nice to be held and cooed at when he actually needed it. So he had let Mori wrap him up in his jacket, and he rested his head on his shoulder, and he tried to realign himself. 

“I’m not judging!” Mori laughs, stirring his straw in his untouched water. “I just pictured you as a triple sausage and pepperoni kind of guy.”

“Do they even _offer_ triple pepperoni and sausage?”

“They should!”

They both laugh, and it feels a little less forced than it usually does. Hinata longs for the easy days of when they first met, when he could bump shoulders with Mori without getting soft smiles in return. When he could give him a high five without fear of interlocking fingers. But this is good, too. He’s pretty sure it’s good…

Someone comes to take their order, leaving a few kids menus and a pack of crayons on the table next to them. Hinata eyes Mori, who scrolls through his phone, completely oblivious to the gift they’ve been given. Hinata looks left and right, tensing his legs as he slides to the edge of his booth. He darts out, quick, and grabs a coloring mat and a pack of four crayons. Mori jumps when he jostles the table enough to rock their glasses. 

“Uhhhh?”

“Tic-tac-toe?” Hinata says, shifting in his seat and tucking a leg under himself. He unwraps the crayon pack and deliberates over a color. Orange, Green, Blue, Purple. 

“How about for every round we win, we can ask a question?” Hinata suggests self consciously. 

“Sounds fun.” Mori casually reaches for the blue crayon. Hinata snatches it away before his brain can even register the action, before he can stop the primal urge. Mori jumps, blinking at the table. He raises a brow, lips twisting in a not quite a smile, not quite a frown. 

“Haha!” Hinata rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry! I uh wanna be blue. It’s my lucky color.” He grips the crayon between his fingers so hard it threatens to snap in half. If Mori finds his reaction odd—and he does it’s written all over his face—he doesn’t say. 

“O-kay.” He reaches for the green, slowly as if anticipating another attack. Hinata’s face burns enough for him to start gulping down his water. 

Mori has hands. Big hands. The kind that could palm a volleyball with ease. His nails are short, some clean and cut, others nibbled down to the quick. There’s a bandage wrapped around his left thumb that looks new; he didn’t have it on yesterday. 

Hinata lets Mori go first, a move his mother taught him. Never strike first, in a fight or in a board game. It was a strategy he learned slowly in volleyball, always wanting to be the fastest, to reach the ball before anyone else. Watching and waiting was more of a Kenma thing. He was good at analyzing the little things. He wonders what he’d say about Mori. 

Mori, who plays X’s and marks one down in the middle of the grid. Hinata represses his sigh of disappointment. It doesn’t take long for him to throw the match, losing on purpose because honestly? The middle box is the worst spot for a first move. So predictable. 

“Do you have any siblings?” 

An easy smile lights up Hinata’s face. “Yeah! My baby sister, Natsu. Though I guess she’s not a baby anymore. She’ll be thirteen in July.” He digs for his phone in his coat pocket, coming up with a fistful of old candy wrappers and receipts he’s yet to throw away. He opens up to the photo gallery and scrolls down before landing on a row of pictures he took over Christmas break. 

“She’s so cute!” Mori exclaims, swiping to the one of Natsu next to her snow elf. “She looks just like you.”

Hinata laughs. “We get that a lot! She’s even thinking about playing volleyball in high school. But she also likes soccer, art, cheerleading and debating.” He smiles fondly, rolling his crayon between his fingers. “Mom says she’ll be too busy with clubs to attend class! And I said—“

“When did you take this one?”

The change in his voice is jarring. 

Hinata blinks back into focus, heart jumping uncomfortable when he takes in the young man’s expression. Mori’s eyebrows are drawn inward, his mouth twisted to the side in a soft frown. He might look confused to anyone else, but Hinata knows this face. It’s the one he used to anticipate whenever he would vent or cry or want to say ugly things and not think about the repercussions. He reaches for his phone, grimacing briefly when his fingers brush against Mori’s. His skin is hot and clammy, like he’s failed to return three balls in a row. He leans forward to analyze the picture further, and Hinata has to stop himself from cradling the device protectively to his chest. 

“We took this over break, too.” The words crawl from his mouth, stiff like old gum. His jaw moves sluggish and off beat, as if he’s woken abruptly from a deep sleep. 

The picture in question is one he honestly forgot about, because he hardly looks at his photos anymore. That first summer apart, Hinata had deleted every single picture in his phone during a week long mental block. He couldn’t handle looking back on the past, let alone having a digital reminder of it. After that, he only took pictures if he liked a view, or if others initiated it. He knows there’s a selfie from the first game they won as a new team, with everyone celebrating in the background, a familiar face blocked by a peace sign. 

It’s the five of them decked out in winter gear, standing outside of their favorite cafe. Kageyama is in the center, ears and cheeks red from the cold. Yachi hugs him tight on his right, with Yamaguchi behind her, and Hinata behind him, shoulder pressed against his back. He’s got his hands in his pockets, keeping contact to a minimum, but his eyes laugh with the memory of a joke. 

“We all meet up for each other’s birthdays,” Hinata explains, shrinking a little in his seat. 

It was unexpected how they meshed, the five of them. It was a slow melting pot of friendship that grew from celebrations during practice to weekend sleepovers and flopping over each other in the park. Casual cuddling and hand holding, laughing into hair and crying into shoulders. There used to be better pictures. Things used to be better. 

Hinata pulls his phone a little closer, swallowing his sudden nerves. “That’s Yachi, she was one of our managers in first year, then took over after Kiyoko-san graduated. She’s probably the reason we’re still alive.” 

Mori leans in too close, warm breath washing over Hinata’s fingers. “She’s pretty. And tiny.” He taps the face next to her, his gaze far too intense. “What about him?”

“That’s Yamaguchi, her boyfriend.” And he hates that’s what he says, as if his friend isn’t more than a love interest. “He’s got an amazing float serve and he’s really sweet. Loves animals and has a really cute laugh. His freckles always multiply in the summer and he says it’s because they’re coming out for my birthday.”

Warm hugs and water fights and spitting watermelon seeds. Walking in a close pack with their arms looped together. Climbing trees and wearing the wrong shoes. 

“What about him?” Mori taps the other blonde head in the photo, the soft smile and warm eyes, cheek pressed to the top of Kageyama’s head. 

“Tsukishima.” Hinata’s mouth is suddenly dry and tacky. “He was my Vice Captain in third year. A really talented middle blocker.” 

Kageyama’s first. His ex boyfriend? His new best friend? 

“Those two seem pretty cozy,” Mori muses, finally looking up at Hinata. He wishes he hadn’t, because he hates the look on his face. Like he’s waiting for an explanation. Or gossip. Another reason to give Kageyama dirty looks. 

“We’re all very close.” The words taste like a lie.

He can feel the silent judgment, the way Mori processes his words. It used to make him feel listened to, but now he just feels exposed. He gathers the happy memories he has and hides them in his ribcage, holding the melancholy under his tongue. No matter what he feels now, no matter how many pictures are lost in cyberspace, he won’t let the present ruin the past. 

He was happy once. He doesn’t want to forget. 

Mercifully their food arrives right then, and Hinata pockets his phone hastily. He orders a large lemonade and stuffs half of the first slice in his mouth in the same breath, barely tasting anything but feeling satisfied when it all lands in his stomach. Sweet, savory, cheesy, eaten without worry or shame. 

He doesn’t miss the look that Mori gives him. He doesn’t miss the way he used to care. 

But he doesn’t want to give up hope! The first dates are always awkward. They just need to find how they fit together. 

“Worst ice cream flavor?” Hinata asks, hoping for something they can bond over. 

“Mint chocolate chip,” Mori says without missing a beat. “It’s toothpaste with bitter fake chips in it. Like eating alien dirt. Totally disgusting.” He smiles ruefully. “I’d eat an entire Hawaiian style pizza before I’d touch a sample spoon of mint chip.”

Hinata swallows the acid on the back of his tongue.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not really my favorite, either.”

 

-~-

 

Kageyama has never missed a day of practice. 

He’s been late a handful of times for a handful of reasons, has sat out on the bench when his nose ran faster than his feet. But he always shows up, stays late to make up for lost time or to clean up, and treats every practice like it’s the last one before a big match. In all his years of playing, he hasn’t found one reason to intentionally skip practice. 

Except for today. 

The apartment that Tsukishima shares with his brother has a very tiny kitchen. It’s the kind of kitchen meant for one tall person, or two small people, or one couple of small and tall. It is _not_ ideal for two tall boys who keep elbowing each other, and insist on sharing counter space despite the island pressing against their backs. 

“How many eggs did you put in?”

“...some of them.” 

Kageyama looks at the runny cake batter, biting his lip. The recipe called for four large eggs, but the eggs in the fridge looked rather small, so he put in an extra one just in case. Or was it two? Fuck how many eggs did they start with. 

“This is your fault for not using a box mix,” he mutters, adding in more flour. “I’m pretty sure Kuroo would eat a rock if you served it to him, why’d you have to make this from scratch?”

Tsukishima doesn’t answer him immediately. Instead he dips his finger into the bowl of frosting he’s making and draws a heart on Kageyama’s cheek. The frosting, like the batter, is very liquidy. Pale pink drips down to his chin and lands on his shoulder. 

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Tsukishima never calls him. Kageyama can count on one hand the number of times they’ve spoken on the phone in the years they’ve had each other’s numbers. He doesn’t mind, since talking aloud isn’t really his thing. He’s gotten better at texting, and sometimes clings to his phone like a lifeline. Tsukishima and his banter were the only thing that kept him sane during long rides to and from games. 

Valentine’s Day is a touchy subject for Tsukishima, one that Kageyama was happy to ignore. But getting a call early that day about Tsukishima needing his help, about baking and boyfriends and the dreaded number fourteen… It wasn’t something he could ignore or put off. Lying to Matsuo about why he was missing practice had been easier than he wanted it to be. 

They get the batter into three pans, slide them into the oven, then stare at the dirty dishes for a solid thirty seconds. Eventually Kageyama takes charge. He moves the frosting to the freezer, hoping it will firm up, then nudges Tsukishima aside to get the rubber gloves from under the sink. 

“You are such a priss,” Tsukishima scoffs. “We don’t even use those gloves.” He rolls up his sleeves and starts cleaning the utensils. 

“I need to protect my hands, asshole.” Kageyama usually did the washing up after dinner when he lived with his parents. He didn’t leave his chores until the very like minute like other children, because he hated being rushed. Starting things early made them easier in the end. 

“Protect them from what?” Tsukishima lifts a chocolate bowl towards his face. “Raw ingredients?”

Kageyama scoffs. “I ate raw cookie dough more than I ate actual cookies. I don’t want my skin to dry out and crack.”

Tsukishima barks a laugh, leaning all of his weight against him. “Truly words only a king would say,” 

“Or a hand model.”

It’s nice, the way they work now. The past couple of weeks have been draining to say the least. If he wasn’t ducking Matsuo he was dodging the others, ignoring their teasing and catcalls. Kageyama didn’t have a lot of good experiences with being the center of attention. Being watched off of the court made him anxious, like everyone was judging him or reading his thoughts. He didn’t want to be known as the guy who kissed the captain. 

He told himself that today was about helping Tsukishima, and that he felt guilty about skipping practice. But the way his heart skipped when he spotted Tsukishima in his brother’s car in the student parking lot didn’t feel like guilt. It felt like freedom, an escape. The farther away from campus they got the easier it was to breathe. 

“How’s Kuroo?” Kageyama asks at length once they’ve finished half of the dishes. There was an unspoken rule between them not to ask too many relationship questions, unless they’re drunk which means they can only talk about relationships. Which hadn’t happened since Tsukishima’s birthday last year, when he admitted in a slur of hot breath against Kageyama’s neck that Kuroo sent him a dick pick as a gift. 

“I don’t know, ask him yourself.” Tsukishima braces for the shove that he knows is coming. “He’s fine. Weird, but fine.”

“Weird?” Kageyama asks, frowning at the cup that slips from his hands and falls to the bottom of the sink. 

“He called me last night and asked if I had any plans for Valentine’s Day.” Kageyama snorts, looking at Tsukishima with a raised brow. Asking your boyfriend if he had romantic plans was like asking your mom if she had anything to do on Mother’s Day. 

“I told him I didn’t, because I figured he had something in mind.” The water is shut off, and Kageyama dries the gloves while Tsukishima dries his hands. 

“And?”

“Radio silence. For almost two minutes.” 

Kuroo wasn’t a chatterbox, but he was straightforward and spoke his mind. He never starts a conversation he doesn’t intend to finish, and he’s definitely the more lively half of the couple. Kageyama is positive his confusion is written on his face, because Tsukishima only has to look at him to get his point across. 

“He finally asked if I wanted to have dinner at his place.”

“Can he even cook?”

“I’m hoping,” Tsukishima sighs, hopping up to sit on the kitchen island. He stares at the oven for a long time, expression never wavering. Kageyama wipes off the countertops, suddenly filled with restless energy. Sharp golden eyes track his movements with thinly veiled amusement, and Kageyama can’t help but feel...something under that steady gaze. 

His relationship with Tsukishima was Different now. Admittedly that’s probably what happens to a lot of people who have slept with their friends, but this felt different. If he could pinpoint an exact time and date of the change, it would probably be after that huge tournament win back in third year. Tsukishima had cheered along with the rest of them, had willingly accepted Hinata’s flying hug, and Kageyama’s right after. It wasn’t groundbreaking, but it was progress, a step in the right direction. 

“Speaking of boyfriends…” Tsukishima traps his leg with his feet, trying to hold him still. “You sent me not one, not three, but eleven morning after panic texts and you still refuse to elaborate.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say the word boyfriend before today.” Kageyama tickles the heel of his foot, and takes the kicking as punishment as he scoots around the island and out of reach. 

“Dodge all you want, King, just remember I’m your ride back to school.” 

Kageyama hops on a rickety stool and puts his chin in his hands, fully prepared to stare Tsukishima down until he changes the subject. It works for a while, but Tsukishima finds a mound of flour and blows it towards his face. Kageyama shields his eyes with a cry. 

“Matsuo isn’t my boyfriend!” 

“You’ve been flirting for months, you kissed him, he didn’t throw up afterwards.” Tsukishima tips his head back and closes his eyes, leaning back on his hands. “Sounds like a boyfriend to me.” 

“By _that_ logic I was your boyfriend once.” 

Silence. 

Kageyama looks up to find Tsukishima smirking. Not looking at him, but smirking all the same. 

“Fuck you.”

“You already have.”

_“Kei!”_

_“Tobio.”_

They dissolve into stifled laughter, both trying to hide it, only to lose it again when they make eye contact. Kageyama flops forward onto the table and reaches out to pinch his hand. 

“Fine fine, whatever.” He sighs heavily. “He asked me out to dinner. For Valentine’s Day.” 

“And you sad no because?” 

“Because I don’t want to date him.” 

It’s the first time he’s said the words out loud. When Matsuo had singled him out after their first meeting back on campus, he could feel something shift in the air. No longer was this a captain and player conversation. It was something more. It was personal. Matsuo had already started dying his hair for the month, the purple which would change to red then fade to pink in a sweaty clump over his forehead. Kageyama used to think he looked cute like that, but his knowing smile just reminded him of that night, of that game, that feeling right after he stepped into the hall after they kissed. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach beer now. 

“I don’t want to date my captain again. I don’t want to add feelings to volleyball again.” 

It was bad enough he had Hinata’s shadow watching his every move. Mori was making it perfectly clear that he and Hinata were becoming a thing. Either that or he thought the two of them would get close due to their shared past. As far as anyone on the team knew, they were just two guys who came from the same high school. Nothing more. Kageyama hoped it would stay that way. 

“You don’t have to date him to have sex with him,” Tsukishima says, sliding to his feet and grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge. 

“Ugh, hard pass.” He catches the bottle tossed his way. “It wasn’t even a good kiss.”

Tsukishima chuckles to himself but mercifully doesn’t push any further. He was good at that, prodding just enough then backing off. 

“Is this thing done yet?” He asks instead, peeking inside the oven. 

“We _just_ put them in!” 

Kageyama gets them out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they curl up on the couch with a terrible movie. Overworked business woman with three kids and a boring ex meets carefree man who turns her world Upside Down. Total yawn fest. He ends up browsing the internet for a while before Tsukishima speaks, unprompted once again. 

“Akiteru wants to propose to his girlfriend.”

Kageyama drops his phone in his lap. 

“No.”

“Yup.”

Akiko was nice. Mousy and soft spoken, shy but friendly. Not exactly what Kageyama had pictured for Akiteru, who liked bad jokes and loud sporting events and burned rice more often than not. She seemed like the kind of person who wanted to take things slow, and wouldn’t like a big fancy proposal. Then again, what did he truly know about her? She could act totally different around her boyfriend, more open and silly, loud or playful. 

“Is he gonna do it—“

“On Valentine’s Day?”

“No!”

“Mhmm.”

Kageyama groans and thumps his head back on the couch with a disgusted snort. “That’s so. Terribly cheesy. If he tries it in a restaurant or a crowded street or a flower shop you’re legally allowed to claim the apartment for yourself.” 

“I tried telling him, but he’s been infected with heart eyes.” He sighs solemnly. “I’ll keep you updated on the aftermath.”

“Please do.” 

Once they remember to check the cake, the bowl of icing gets rescued from the freezer. After letting it thaw, and the cakes cool, they get to work assembling it. Leveling the cake doesn’t go exactly to plan, but after some research and a lot of icing sugar, the frosting actually resembles frosting. They layer the cake, ice it, then store it in the fridge to chill. 

And then they ice it two more times, just to be safe. 

“This looks like shit.” 

Tsukishima wields a big knife like a weapon, gesturing at the leaning mass of pink and red heart sprinkles. It looks like it could potentially come to life and gobble them up instead of the other way around. 

“It doesn’t look that bad.” Kageyama hedges. “Kinda looks like a heart.”

“It’s probably lopsided because it didn’t bake all the way through.” The possibility of food poisoning doesn’t stop him from cutting a big slice. The structural integrity threatens to crumble, and a breathless moment passes as they wait for it to fall. It doesn’t. They breathe a sigh of relief. 

“You want milk with that?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, sliding back into his kitchen stool. He cuts a decent bite with his fork and brings it to his lips. 

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Valentine’s Day is next week.”

“Yes.”

_“Next week.”_

“I heard you the first time.” A glass of milk slides across the island and stops when it hits his hand. Tsukishima leans back against the sink, one eyebrow cocked in question. 

“Why are we making food so early?” Even if he kept it in the fridge the cake would grow stale, especially one that wasn’t baked all that well. 

Tsukishima huffs. “It’s fresh now, isn’t it?” He waves him on to start eating, and if Kageyama squints he can just make out the pink high in his cheeks. 

Kageyama bites the bullet and the cake, and immediately curls his lips over his teeth. The frosting is sugar injected directly into his gums, highlighting every tiny cavity he’s been ignoring. The cake is definitely chocolate tasting, if a bit soggy. He’s pretty sure the sprinkles are a year old. 

“How is it?” Tsukishima asks, pretending like he couldn’t care either way. He’s examining his nails, a nervous habit Kageyama picked up on in third year. 

“I’m not dead,” he says, shoveling in a bigger forkful. Cake was cake, even eggy sugary cake. “So I guess we did okay.” 

Tsukishima doesn’t answer with another snarky qwip like he expects, but he’s used to his silences by now. He serves himself another smaller piece of cake, the flavor quickly growing on him. Or maybe he’s just hungry. That breakfast bar he had this morning wasn’t the most filling. It’s not until he’s pushing for a third slice that Tsukishima finally speaks. 

“I got Kuroo’s gift back in December.” The words hang in the air, unexpected. “Not that I expected us to last until now, but it was there and I just got it.”

Kageyama slowly lowers his fork. 

“But I didn’t have anything for you.”

And then it falls from his loose fingers. 

Moments like these tend to happen in slow motion for some people. Time stops, the outside world freezes, and no one else exists but the two people who find themselves with words they had built up so much courage to say. That’s not what happens now. Kageyama ducks his head in a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. Unlike Tsukishima he didn’t have a partner to make or buy something for. There wouldn’t be a teddy bear on his desk next week, and he hadn’t gotten a shoe locker confession since second year back at Karasuno. Tsukishima was being...nice. Though taking pity on him sounded more up his alley. 

“Does it count as a gift if I helped make it?” 

Tsukishima doesn’t say happy Valentine’s Day. They don’t hug, or smile at each other or sit close on the couch by accident. 

He does, however, let Kageyama take the rest of the cake with him. 

 

-~-

 

 **Hinata [1:20 PM]**  
R u doing anything for spring break? 

 

The dining hall is both Hinata’s favorite and least favorite place on campus. The WiFi is better here than the computer lab, the food is good even when it’s cold, and the chairs and tables are comfortable enough to sit on for hours, or nap on by accident after three days of very little sleep. However, it’s a very open space. Terrible for hiding and laying low. Which is why there’s five of them at the table instead of four. 

Otsuka, Goya and Eto had finally managed to corner him in order to study for their final tests of the semester. Being in the same year, on the same team, and all more or less on the sports track, they had a lot of classes together. Hinata and Goya had the Monday/Wednesday block, while Eto and Otsuka had Tuesday/Thursday. They were all suffering. 

“I hate this.” Eto groans, letting his head drop to the table. “I have never been more dissatisfied with my quality of life than right now.”

Otsuka snorts, flipping pages in his notebook. “What about the time we went to the beach and that crab stole your flip flop?” 

“That felt more like a betrayal than anyth–“

“Or when you hit on Ayumi-Chan’s mom because you thought that she was her sister?” Goya offers.

“She looked really good okay?!”

“Or the time–“

Hinata does his best to tune them out, slowly chipping away at his extra credit assignment. Usually he studied in his room, or in the library under one of the tables, because as nice as it was to have company the conversations tended to stray off topic. He couldn’t afford to let his grades slip if he wanted to play next semester. 

“Where the hell is Kageyama?” Eto grumbles. He peers over at his phone sitting in the middle of the table, along with everyone else’s. A study rule. “I told him we were cramming today but he never responded.”

“What did you expect?” Goya leans back in his chair, slumping down in defeat. “He only talks to us during games and practice. I’m amazed you even got his number.” 

Hinata feels his eye twitch. 

“I got it from Matsuo, actually.”

Hinata feels _both_ of his eyes twitching. 

He doesn’t say _you could’ve asked me for his number_ because as far as anyone knows they were just old teammates. As far as anyone knows Kageyama was this aloof and standoffish back in high school. As far as anyone knows he and Hinata weren’t even all that close, winning games and taking the same classes and forgetting about each other once they no longer shared the same space. 

It’s what he wanted. It’s what they agreed upon. 

“Hey, guys!” Says the only person who knows otherwise. “Room for one more?”

Mori sits down in the chair next to Hinata without waiting for a response. He’s so close that their knees touch, and Hinata tries to scoot away without making it too obvious. Maybe it’s the stress, or the background chatter, or maybe he’s just hangry, but his mental batteries flash a 20% warning. He didn’t want to deal with him, not after dodging him for most of February. He wanted to study in peace. He wanted to nap. He wanted to scream! 

“Hinata, your girlfriend is calling.” 

“What?” Hinata looks up from his book, and sure enough his phone is vibrating, a picture of Yachi lighting up the screen with the name Star Girl. She smiles up at them, flashing double peace signs over her eyes. His smile is automatic as he reaches for her—

But his hand hits someone else’s first. 

Mori swipes over to decline the call. Hinata watches as the screen change, watches as Yachi is replaced by his home screen. He hadn’t decided on a new one and for the first time ever a default image flares up at him before the screen goes dark. 

“You’re supposed to have the phones turned off and face down,” Mori says to them, looking at Eto who has his in his hand. “It’s still a distraction if you—Hinata?” 

He moves on autopilot, grabbing his phone and his books, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He answers Moro’s confused call of his name with an empty stare. “Please. Never do that again.” He holds up his phone as if to clarify. “It’s rude.”

The silence at the table is heavy, choking. Goya looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and Eto and Otsuka share a look that conveys both fear and respect. Hinata is only ever this intense on the court, seeing his thousand yard stare aimed directly at a teammate is unheard of. 

“S-Sorry,” Mori finally gets out, looking a bit pale. “I was trying to.. I’m sorry.”

Hinata nods, stiff and robotic, dreamlike as he turns and takes careful steps away from the table, towards the doors of the dining hall. His things are gathered awkwardly in his arms, they way one does after making a hasty retreat. He tries to call Yachi back even as his textbook starts slipping down his torso. 

“Hello?”

The book clatters to the ground, landing in the grass, and Hinata’s greeting is a broken wail that grows high pitches and screeching, causing passers by to glare and whisper to their friends. After a beat Yachi responds with a cooing sound, like a mama dinosaur trying to comfort her baby. It helps. 

“Are you alright?” Hinata plops down on the grassy seating area outside of the dining hall and, instead of putting his things properly into his bag, falls back and squints miserably at the clouds. 

“I want the world to compress and turn me into a pancake. Release me from sentience. I wish to become one with the ground.”

Yachi makes another sympathetic sound. “I can call back if you’re busy. You didn’t pick up the first time so I thought—“

Hinata groans in frustration this time, throwing an arm over his eyes. “That wasn’t me, that was my teammate, Mori.” He grits his teeth against the irritation. “The guy I’m kinda sorta but not really dating. A little bit.” 

The sound of something falling over on her end startled him. “You’re dating again and you didn’t tell me?!”

“No!” The very thought has him recoiling. “No, not really.” He scrubs his fingers over his face. “We’ve gone on dates but we’re not like together together.” 

“Does he know you’re not together?”

Hinata nibbles on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t really wanna ask.” 

“Hinata.” Yachi sighs, the way she used to when he got angry during study group, or when he got too animated and knocked over his lunch. 

“I know! I know, okay?” He rolls over onto his front and props himself up with his elbows. “It’s complicated. A lot has happened in such a short time and I don't know what to do about it.” 

His mind trickles back to January, back to that stupid game and that stupid lodge and that stupid kiss. Things were easier before, weren’t they? He and Mori were normal before. Casual flirting and closeness with a friend. Nothing too serious and no expectations. But maybe that was just him. Maybe Mori had been waiting for there to be something more. 

“I’m all ears,” Yachi tells him, and he knows that she means it. 

“It’s a lot to take in.” And he hasn’t had time to prepare an abridged version. 

“I’ve got time,” Yachi promises. “And even if I didn’t I’d make time for you.”

If Hinata closes his eyes he can picture her face, her serious but open expression, the slight pout to her lips in order to keep a good poker face. She was the easiest person to talk to, the one he leaned on when he felt like falling over. He remembers how he took her to her first haunted house, and how he made her laugh through her tears after she ran out when it became too much. She never told him he was overreacting, even when he was. If she didn’t know how to help she would listen and hold his hand and let him rest his head on her shoulder. 

Yachi wasn’t his girlfriend. But he loved her like she was. 

So he tells her, right there on the lawn, grass stains seeping into his shirt. How he met Mori shortly after joining the team. How, back then, he was the shoulder Hinata needed, the crutch. All the awful things he said about Kageyama and how happy he was that a cute boy was letting him vent. How uncomfortable he felt now that Mori still gave Kageyama the cold shoulder a year later even though Hinata stopped complaining about him October of freshman year. 

“So...why are you agreeing to hang out with him. On things he thinks are dates?” 

“Because he’s been so nice! And I’ve held his hand and let him get close. I don’t want him to think I’m using him.”

Yachi snorts. “Aren’t you?”

Hinata grimaces, because the answer changed depending on how he wanted to look at it. “I know, it’s really shitty. I keep hoping something will click and I’ll like him again. Like if I get to know him _that_ way I’ll. I dunno, fall for him or something.”

But even as he says the words he knows they aren’t true. His romantic butterflies have long since turned back into caterpillars. He liked what they had, the closeness, the physical comfort, and he had hoped that the warm fuzzies would return once the two got to know each other better. No matter how hard he pushes himself Mori was still just a teammate, and now he was getting on his nerves. 

“Do you remember when I went out with Shimizu-san?” There’s rustling on her end, and Hinata can picture her laying in bed on her stomach, legs crossed at the ankles in the air, like she used to do when they studied together at his house. 

“How could I forget?” Hinata laughs. “You were a legend! The only one to get a yes from the elusive manager.” 

Second year was the start of a lot of things, and Yachi’s road to being more confident started with asking Kiyoko on a date right when the third years were graduating. 

Yachi laughs with him, like windchimes. “She was my first real relationship, my first and only girlfriend!” She sighs, nostalgic and fond. “I felt on top of the world. I thought she was it, you know, like The One. I figured I would graduate, wed move in together. I was totally gone for her.”

Hinata knows, maybe better than anyone. Yachi would text him late at night, a thousand exclamation points and blushing emojis. She came to him for advice and gift ideas and pep talks. It felt like they had their own little lovers club in between volleyball. 

“Do you remember what I said after we broke up?” 

They had tried the long distance thing for five months before, according to a tearful Yachi, Kiyoko had gently told her they should see other people. It had been awkward for sure, well into his own relationship and dealing with the breakup of a friend. Hinata definitely caught a case of backseat insecurity, and spent too many nights agonizing over things he didn’t really need to worry about. 

He didn’t get the full story until Christmas. Yachi had gone through hoops to lie to her mother about visiting Kiyoko for the weekend. The friend they were staying with was twenty three, had a boyfriend who was twenty six, and was the kind of guy who made everyone uncomfortable and called it a personality trait. A game of twister was suggested, words were said, a high heel was almost a murder weapon, and Yachi spent the night cuddling with Kiyoko in a motel room watching Netflix and eating ramen. They split pretty soon afterwards. 

“Will you be mad if I say no?”

Yachi laughs. ”I said dating her felt like trying to do a float serve. I didn’t have much control on where the ball—the relationship went, and the best I could do was trust that I would know what to do when the time came to do it.”

Hinata remembers those weeks after their breakup. Yachi walked around like a wilted flower being held up by toothpicks and string. Her laugh was hollow, her smiles were fake, even her eyes, usually so expressive, were dull and flat. Hinata had clung a little too tightly to Kageyama then, terrified that a breakup could change a person so severely. He kept thinking how lucky they were to be the same age, how lucky they were that distance would never be an issue. 

“What’s dating Yamaguchi like?” Change the subject change it right now. “You said Shimizu-san was a float serve, so what is he?”

When Yachi and Yamaguchi started dating, shortly before he and Kageyama broke up at the end of third year, no one had been surprised. Yamaguchi had liked their new manager from the start, and Yachi seemed to bond with him quite fast. Of course, there was one person in particular who probably hadn’t expected them to get together. Or maybe he had. Hinata never bothered to ask that particular question. 

“Tadashi is..” Yachi sighs a dreamy sigh and giggles. “This morning he texted me a picture of waffles and sausage, and I was whining about how jealous I was. And then he sent a picture of my door right before he knocked.” She huffs, and Hinata can imagine her bangs fluttering. “He makes me feel like Christmas.”

Hinata closes his eyes and tries to picture what his teammate could be. Mori, and his willingness to listen and indulge. His...sometimes suffocating presence. The way he talks over people, and forgets to apologize after. How warm he is when they hug. How he tries to hold Hinata’s hand now, and how it feels like a padlock anytime their fingers interlock. 

“Mori makes me feel like having to go to class when everyone else gets a snow day,” he answers honestly after a while. “Or like that uncomfortable sleep you get before a fever breaks.” 

Another sad and sympathetic coo fills his ear. “Then you have to let him know you’re not into him like that. Letting things get too far will only hurt both of you in the end.” 

“I will,” Hinata promises, sitting up. “Soon. I just...need to think about what to say.” His irritation from earlier has faded back into his bones, and all he feels now is tired, but the kind that feels like it can be fixed by a good nap. 

Hinata pictures Yachi in her dorm room, a tiny single she applied three times to get, wearing her favorite kitten patterned sleep shorts and one of Yamaguchi’s sweatshirts. He misses her so much. 

“Make sure to eat something other than granola and yogurt,” He scolds her lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

“I will, don’t worry. Tadashi is taking me to lunch once his class ends.” Hinata listens to her move about her room as he walks across campus, their silence a familiar and comfortable one. The sky is a light gray, sunshine threatening to break through the clouds layered in the sky. Spring is teasing it’s way into the world, dancing at the edges of winter like a mischievous fairy. He makes a mental note to commission Yachi for a drawing of that sometime. 

When Yachi speaks again her voice is soft, but no longer timid like it was when they first met. “Shouyou?”

“Yeah?” 

“If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

Hinata is thankful the area is empty, because he doesn’t try to stop the burning behind his eyes from releasing itself. He rubs the heel of his hand across his cheek, but lets the tears flow after a bit. He’s never been afraid to cry and he isn’t going to start getting weird about it now. 

“Still taking care of me after all this time?” He smiles at the sudden burst of warmth in his shoulders. He really, _really_ misses her. 

“It’s not really a job I can quit,” she says playfully, then gets a little more serious. “I know you’ll do the right thing, Shouyou. You always do. Take care, and don’t be afraid to call, okay?”

Hinata doesn’t have the heart to correct her about that. “I won’t. Promise. Have a nice date, and tell Yamaguchi I said hi!” 

They say goodbye, lingering in the way one does when they don’t really want to say goodbye. Hinata collects himself in the silence that follows, slowly letting the world fade back into his senses. He makes the trip back to his room, shooting Goya a text about picking up the studying tomorrow. Upset or not he still has a test to take. 

Once safe in his room, Hinata kicks off his shoes and drops his bag by his desk before flopping belly first onto his bed. He breathes in the smell of his sheets, still clean after their trip to the laundry a few days ago. Like a laptop, he recharged in the quiet, gaining the strength eventually to pick up his phone. He smiles when he sees a new message from Kenma, several in fact. 

 

 **Kenmeow [2:00 PM]**  
the same thing I always do. nothing 

**Kenmeow [2:11 PM]**  
Kuro is going on his yearly nerd retreat. him and a few of his science pals go to the woods for a week and drop off the face of the earth 

**Kenmeow [2:17 PM]**  
I can ask if they’ve got room in the truck if you wanted to escape for a while

 

-~-

 

“Oh my god, you didn’t.” 

The student parking lot wasn’t too crowded that Thursday afternoon, which made things easier. Less people to witness Kageyama fighting back a stupid grin and pushing down an even stupider blush. He pushes the piece of strawberry shortcake—still cold in its container since he bought it a few minutes ago—closer to Tsukishima’s face. 

“Happy White Day, Shima.” It doesn’t feel as personal as a homemade treat, but he didn’t have the resources nor the patience to make an entire strawberry shortcake from scratch. But he wasn’t about to let the bastard one up him! 

“When you told me to come by today I didn’t expect..” he breathes a laugh and shakes his head. “What the hell is this for?”

Kageyama shrugs, leaning against the driver’s side door now that his hands are free. “You remembered I like chocolate cake. Now we’re even.”

“I _remembered_ because your birthday was two months ago and you had a chocolate cake.” Tsukishima’s looks at him, mouth caught in a smirk that’s entirely too fond. Kageyama averts his gaze, but he’s smiling too. 

“So you don’t want it, then?” He asks, reaching inside the car to grab the container back. Tsukishima stabs the back of his hand with the plastic fork he was given and hisses like a snake. 

“That’s what I thought.”

The day is cool and sunny, the last of the slush melting. The trees have started growing their buds, and soon they’ll once again be providing shade to the students on campus. Kageyama’s favorite tree is a thin but tall thing outside the music building. When the windows are open open he can hear everyone practicing, or someone taking a solo. When they’re good it’s soothing to sit on the grass and get lost in the rhythm. And when they’re bad he records them to laugh about later. 

Tsukishima takes a healthy bite of his gift and hums in satisfaction, glaring at Kageyama who snickers. “Fuck off,” he says with his mouth full. He chews, swallows. “But also get in.”

“Huh?”

“My own White Day plans were thwarted by a pesky feline.” He makes a face, shoveling one of the strawberries past his teeth. “Let’s get lunch.”

Kageyama snorts. “Can I order some context first?”

“Apparently,” Tsukishima sighs, like someone complaining about a coworker. “He and Kozume usually spends Valentine’s Day together. And Kuroo feels bad about breaking tradition, so they’re having a do over day.”

He can tell by the look on his face just how thrilled he is about that. “Wow,” he sighs. “Must be hard for them. I mean, when your roommate is your best friend when do you find the time to see them?”

Tsukishima bites his lip, trying to hold his stern expression. “Now now, friendship is important. You shouldn’t ignore them just because you’re in a relationship.” He smiles then, an upside down grimace. “It just means the reservations I made after _asking my brother_ for advice, like an idiot, is now extended to you.”

 _That_ brings Kageyama up short. Despite living together Tsukishima tried not to ask his brother for anything, let alone advice, let alone love advice! He was low maintenance, didn’t like to stand out or stick his head out for anything or anyone. Yet, despite being together for around six months, he’s swallowing his pride and dropping money for fancy tablecloths and candles. 

“You must really care about him.”

The only person he knows that hates Valentine’s Day more than Tsukishima is Hinata. As far as he knew, the last time he celebrated was when Natsu was two, before his father left. He still got little chocolates for his mom and sister, but that was the extent of the holiday. He hadn’t accepted or given any gifts in middle school or junior high, and while looking incredibly pained, he’d told Kageyama that he didn’t want to do anything while they were together. No candy, no special trips, no surprises. 

Kageyama, who once made a giant heart shaped card for Iwaizumi that he gave to his mother instead last minute, didn’t have a problem with this. Nor was he annoyed when White Day got the same treatment. Setting aside a day to express your affection wasn’t really his style anyway. 

Until now apparently. 

“I told him I made dinner plans and had the apartment to myself for the whole day, and when he said he was in his pajamas playing Zelda and eating stale popcorn covered in caramel, I didn’t dump him.”

The light changes, a subtle thing, and Kageyama is struck with a rare sight. Tsukishima looks different when he talks about Kuroo, something Kageyama was certain he didn’t realize. He doesn’t smile, not always, but there’s a curve to his lips like he could, if he let himself. His eyes spark, something deeper than fondness and infatuation turning the color brighter for just a second. Sometimes he rubs his knuckles, a gesture Kuroo does when they’re sitting together. Sometimes he plays with the keychain on his phone case, a little black cat in a lab coat. Sometimes he’ll huff at nothing in particular, and when Kageyama looks over his cheeks are the lightest shade of pink. 

“Either I’m an idiot or I really..” He trails off, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nope, I’m just an idiot. I think you’re rubbing off on me.”

Kageyama is still too knotted up to speak but he forces a laugh. “Better start taking those dinosaur vitamins again. I’m like a virus.” 

“You’re _something_ alright,” Tsukishima mutters. The light shifts again, and things slide back into place. “Now hurry up, if I wasted my money for nothing I’ll eat you instead.” 

Kageyama is about to protest his lack of fancy attire—because jeans and an old shirt don’t mix well with places you need to reserve a space for—when he hears his name being called from a distance. He turns around, then immediately wishes he hadn’t. Matsuo, along with half the team it seems, migrates across the parking lot like a wave. His back presses against the cool metal of Tsukishima’s car. 

“Hey!” Matsuo grins, his freshly dyed pink hair flopping to the side. He notices Tsukishima and pauses for a bit. “Hey.”

“Hello.” The sun was beating down on them but Tsukishima sounded like the dead of winter, cold and disinterested. 

Matsuo, wearing shorts despite sporting a plethora of goosebumps, shoots a finger gun in their direction. “Friend of yours?”

“Tsukishima Kei,” the man introduces himself. His eyes judge the gang before him. Goya, Otsuka and Eto hang back with Kojima and Ueta. Matsuo leads the pack, Vice Captain Saito not too far behind. Bringing up the rear, standing incredibly close, are Mori and Hinata. 

Matsuo peers into the car, a flash of recognition in his eyes. “Tsukishima?” He looks to Kageyama, no doubt recalling the name he saw in his text logo back in January. 

“Do you go to school here?” Saito asks, always the responsible one. “This is the student parking lot.”

“He’s just visiting,” Kageyama jumps in before Tsukishima can say anything else. He doesn’t like the bubble in his chest, anxiety trapped like gas. He’s been dodging Matsuo since that kiss, and he doesn’t like the calculating look in his eyes. Matsuo Itaru was charming, but he was also an ass, and he didn’t want to see those two personalities combined aimed at him. 

“We were just about to leave, actually.” Tsukishima makes a show of eating his cake. “I’m stealing Tobio away for lunch.”

Matsuo’s eyebrows shoot for the sky. “Tobio?”

“Is there an echo on this campus?” 

Kageyama shoves his face back into the car, paying no mind to the tongue that slobbers over his palm. “What’s up, guys?” 

Kojima, his noodle arms snaking around Ueta’s tall frame, beams. “We’re going downtown! Team bonding and all that. Captain thinks we sucked last game cause we’re not “a cohesive unit” or something.” He stage whispers. “I think he just wants to get drunk though.” 

Day drinking with his team didn’t sound as appealing as it might’ve back in high school, especially since the last time his guard was down he made a fool of himself. He glances back at Tsukishima who shrugs and rolls his eyes, sort of an _it’s up to you_ gesture. Kageyama can admit that on a scale from one to ten, the team was a solid four when it came to overall trust and compassion. Maybe spending time together going over strategy and technique would be beneficial. 

“Is this the guy you ditched practice for?” 

Or maybe he could stand to play with strangers for another two years instead. 

Mori has pushed his way to the front, pulling Hinata along with him like a child by the wrist. He doesn’t seem to even notice he’s done it. 

“I saw you getting in his car when you told coach you had _family issues.”_

“Why the hell are you spying on me?” Kageyama bites back, the guilt he had pushed aside that day rising up like water in a clogged toilet. He watches as realization passes over each and every face, and the judgement that follows hits him harder than he expected it to. 

“Why are you skipping practice for non emergencies?!” Mori points an accusing finger in his direction. Hinata rolls his eyes and takes a few steps back and away from him. “What happened to “If you can't bother showing up for practice don’t bother coming to the games”. This is why we’re losing!”

Kageyama bristles. The idea that he’s the reason behind their lack of victory has him seeing red. “Our lack of cohesion and synchronization has nothing to do with who I spend my time with!”

“It does when you’re skipping practice.” He almost doesn’t recognize Matsuo’s voice, it’s so different. Stern and assertive, like a real captain and not just someone holding the title. “You’re a good player, Kageyama, but you’re not the only one on the team. Maybe you don’t need to be present at every practice for your own benefit, but we need you there.”

Something like dread washes over him. He digs his nails into his palm, wanting the shaking to stop. “I know, I’m s—“

“I’m sure he thinks he could play an entire game by himself.”

What. 

“C’mon, dude,” Kojima sighs. “Don’t start with this again.”

Again? 

Mori has the attention of the entire group, and Kageyama grips onto the open window for support. He’s already getting tunnel vision. 

“He’s a showoff. You saw him last game. The only reason he didn’t bite anyone’s head off was cause the scouts were watching.”

He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t 

“Believe it or not you need us.”

There’s something bright in his peripheral, something orange and fuzzy, like a flower, growing bigger with each step until it’s close enough to touch. 

“A king is nothing without his subjects, right?”

And then everything stops. 

When Kageyama’s senses return to him he’s no longer in the student parking lot. He’s in a darkened alcove between two buildings, an awkward oversight of the architect team. All the way into the far corner it’s nearly impossible to be spotted by someone just walking past. Everyone called it the Kissing Cove. And he’s got Hinata pinned like a butterfly. Big brown eyes stare back at him, two hands pressed to his chest to keep him at bay. 

“Kageyama,” his name reaches his ears as if from underwater. “Calm down, okay? Everything’s okay.”

His chest heaves, rising and falling faster than he can physically keep up with. He’s lightheaded, his legs and feet hurt, his knuckles are bruised from where they dig into the brick on either side of Hinata’s head. He’s shaking from head to toe, and as Hinata’s fingers grip tightly to his shirt he realizes he isn’t pinning him down; Hinata is holding him up. 

“Why,” he forces out, closing his eyes. “Why does he know that word. Why does he know what it means?” The Kissing Cove wasn’t anywhere near the student lot how far did he run. “What did you tell him?”

Hinata tries to lift him up but that only makes Kageyama sag over him more. “No one else knows what it means—“

_“I do!”_

He’s crying. 

The knot in his throat makes it impossible to swallow without wincing. He glares down at the orange blur in front of him, digging his knuckles into the stone. Hinata’s face, from what he can see, slowly morphs from concerned and apologetic, to resigned, to closed off. He lets go of Kageyama’s shirt, looks away as the other steps back and wipes his face. 

“Who else knows. About any of it.”

“Nobody. I only told Mori, and he hasn’t said anything to the team.”

“That you know of.”

Hinata opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but they both heard him back in the parking lot. “That I know of, yeah.” 

Kageyama scoffs under his breath. Hinata had always been too nice, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt and taking what they said at face value. Who knew what Mori could be lying about, what act he put on to ease Hinata’s fears or charm him into forgiving his many annoying habits. He would be the worst roommate imaginable and… Suddenly everything makes sense. 

“You thought Mori was going to be your roommate on the trip,” he accuses. “That’s why you were all happy before you saw it was me.”

Hinata frowns, caught off guard at the rapid change in subject. “What?”

“It makes perfect sense now that I know you’ve been talking shit to him behind my back,” he mutters almost to himself. “You know what they say, boyfriends who bitch together—“

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Hinata explodes forward, jabbing him in the chest. “And even if he was, why would I spend our time together talking about you?”

Kageyama jabs him back. “I don’t know. Why does he know anything about me when it was your idea to keep the past a secret?” He adopts a high pitched tone. “We’re just old teammates, that’s all they need to know. That’s what you told me.”

Hinata told him a lot of things in the aftermath, much of which Kageyama has done his best to honor. Turns out he didn’t need to, since the one who swore him to secrecy blabbed to the first person that smiled at him. Hinata has his fists balled up at his sides kike he wants to hit him, and Kageyama welcomes the challenge. But it never comes. 

“I’m allowed to vent to someone I trust!” Hinata spits the words at him, as if he hasn’t trusted anymore before Mori. It tears at something inside of him. 

“Maybe don’t trust a pushy stalker next time!” 

“Maybe don’t ditch practice to go on dates with someone who has a boyfriend next time!”

And suddenly they’re right back where they started, only this time he pins Hinata by the forearms, fingers aching as he works not to squeeze too hard, not to dig his nails into his skin. Even now he doesn’t want to hurt him. Even now he takes Hinata’s complaints about being touched all the time into account. He’s still fucking doing what he asked—

“I didn’t go on a date with Kei,” he says in his face, noses almost touching. “We don’t go on dates. You can think whatever you want in that empty head of yours, but I’m not a cheater.”

They haven’t been this close in a long time. 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Kageyama rememberers how he used to hesitate before every kiss, how they’d blush and stare each other down until their eyes crossed and their noses bumped. The moment that hung by a thread right before their lips met. He used to think about it at night, smothering his grin with his hand. He’d think about it in the morning, his phone buzzing with dozens of texts. 

“Yeah?” Kageyama says, because he’s drowning in words and needs to cough some of them up. “Me too.” 

He tries to walk away, tries to put even more distance between them, but Hinata yanks him back, and suddenly things are the same, but different. Hinata has always been shorter than him, but he’s been slowly climbing higher. He’s eyelevel with his chin now instead of his chest, and with Kageyama slumped against the wall as he is, they can almost see eye to eye. 

“What does that mean?” Kageyama presses his lips into a thin line, intending to keep silent until Hinata gives up and storms off. But the man shakes him, just a little, like he’s trying to get attention, like he used to do Before to be cute. All the things he thought he buried are revealed with the tide washing away the sand. 

“It _means_ that I didn’t get on your case when you spent half of our dates texting Kenma the entire time. I wasn’t mad when you invited him to watch movies or play games when we were supposed to be alone.” The familiar stinging behind his eyes makes it harder to keep watching him. “I didn’t accuse you of cheating when you spent all of his visits glued to his side because I _trusted you.”_

“You didn’t trust me.” His voice comes out small, hurt. “After everything we went through together you thought that...that I didn’t love you enough to be faithful.” He grits his teeth. “You didn’t trust me and there was nothing I could’ve done to ease that when you never told me how you felt.”

Kageyama has lived with these thoughts in his head for so long they almost don’t sound real spoken aloud. Hinata’s wide brown eyes cycle through emotions like a montage. Surprise. Guilt. Pity. Perhaps all three, or something else entirely. 

“You can’t just blame this on me,” he says eventually, soft and muted. “If you were jealous of Kenna why didn’t you say so?” He lets him go, steps back. Kageyama tries not to miss his warmth. 

“What would I have said?” He asks defeated. “Don’t talk to him while I’m around? Stop giving him attention instead of me? I’m not a five year old, I know how to share.” He didn’t like feeling out of place when Kenma came around, especially when Hinata lectured him about his scary face or being nice, but he sucked it up. He could become one with the furniture if it meant the visits went by faster. 

Hinata scowls at him, his face shadowed. “You always say I’m the selfish one, but hiding this kind of pain and expecting me to fix it isn’t fair! I can’t read your mind.”

“I never said I wanted you to fix it.”

“Then what did you want?!” He’s raising his voice, trying to start a fight again. But exhaustion has crept up on Kageyama, and the burning behind his eyes is back, and he wants so badly to pause time, to speak his mind to Hinata’s face even if he can’t hear. 

But he doesn’t. 

He leaves instead. 

Hinata doesn’t follow. 

His feet carry him back across campus, past the gym and the dining hall. His plan is to hide in his room for the next three days, but something catches his eye. There’s a familiar car still in the parking lot, and a familiar set of eyes staring him down. Kageyama doesn’t even think before taking off in a sprint, and just like that they’re eating up the road, leaving everything behind. 

“That assclown wouldn’t even make it as a court jester,” Tsukishima spits out at their third red light. He’s gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Kageyama rubs st the tear tracks on his face. 

“He’s the best libero the team has had in five years,” Kageyama croaks, not even needing to ask who he’s talking about. 

“Somewhere out there Nishinoya just choked.” They both laugh, some of the tension easing from his back. Kageyama saga in the passenger seat and combs his fingers through his hair, thoughts static. 

“You’re better than him, you know that.” The words are soft, no louder than the radio. “Tell me you know that.”

Kageyama laughs again, rubbing at his eyes and wiping snot on his sleeve. He accepts the tissues shoved in his face with a loud and graceless sniffle. “When did you turn into my cheerleader?” 

He blows his nose and uses what’s left in an old water bottle to clean his face. He mumbles about not having any appropriate clothes for a fancy restaurant, about how they’ve probably missed the reservation by now. Tsukishima doesn’t let him wallow for too long, or at all really. They go to the nearest McDonalds and Tsukishima orders over the sound of Kageyama’s laughter. They eat in the parking lot, dipping fries into milkshakes, fighting over dipping sauce for the nuggets, and watching baking fail compilations on Tsukishima’s phone. 

“Shima?”

“Mm?”

“... thanks.”

Tsukishima shakes his head, huffs a laugh through his nose, soft and fond. “Happy White Day, King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a curious cat on my new anime related twitter @majorinanime if you’re shy, though it’s 18+ to /follow/ just in case.


	4. February: Two Days After Breakup

Another sob wracks Hinata’s body as he clutches at his empty bowl. His hands are cold and his face is covered in salty tears and sticky snot and his head pounds so hard he can barely hear his own pathetic whimpers. 

Friday had been the worst day of his life. His face ached from forcing a wide grin, and all the pitying looks from his teammates rubbed him like the rough side of a sponge. Announcing the breakup, keeping his voice clear and his guard up like the high wall he worked so hard to overcome, hadn’t taken more than five minutes. The team tried to laugh it off, and Hinata laughed with them, shrugging away questions and starting practice before his mouth to brain filter could clog. 

Kageyama hadn’t spoken at all. 

“I hate him!” Hinata wails into his mother’s shoulder. They’re on the couch, a stack of movies spread out on the floor. He’s wrapped in a tight cocoon of at least four blankets, wearing his softest pajamas and fuzzy pineapple socks. He feels like shit. 

His mother doesn’t even chastise him for using ‘strong words’ like she used to do when he was younger. Maybe because she knows he doesn’t mean it. Or maybe the look in his eyes when he came home, hollow and lost and crumbling, told her everything she needed to know. It doesn’t matter. She holds him all the same. 

“I mean,” he hiccups, tasting mint chip ice cream. He doesn’t even _like_ mint chip! He was saving it for stupid Valentine’s Day because stupid Kageyama loved it! And now he has to eat it all or every time he opens the freezer he’ll see it and think about his stupid face and the dumb way he licked his spoon. 

“He didn’t even tell his parents about us!” He scrubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “We dated for _two years_ and he never told them. I was always just his _friend_.” He spits the word out like watermelon seeds. 

His mother sighs softly, carding her fingers through his dirty hair. He hasn’t bathed all weekend. He can barely stand to leave the couch to pee, let alone undress completely. His drawers are filled with too big clothes, ones he borrowed or stole or that Kageyama left on purpose because he stayed over often enough. And then there were the little keychains and sticker books, all the pictures on his phone. He might as well delete his Instagram and start anew because Kageyama’s ugly face is literally everywhere! 

Hinata feels like throwing up, the violent kind that leaves him weak for at least a day and a half, but he’s afraid that if he falls asleep he’ll be there at the corner, underneath the streetlight, staring up at a blank face, at unseeing eyes, ending something he never thought would start in the first place. He regrets ever confessing. He regrets those quiet nights spent talking about the future, about going to nationals and winning every game they could. He regrets every hug and smile he’s managed to coax out of the setter over the years. He regrets the very first day they met, back when he didn’t know what having a partner felt like. He regrets Kageyama. 

But he knows, deep down, maybe near his large intestine, that he doesn’t mean that either. 

Natsu emerges from the kitchen with a bowl piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles and chocolate syrup. The siblings wordlessly exchange bowls, and Hinata loads his big spoon with as much as he can and crams it into his mouth. The cold and sugar twist his lips over his sensitive teeth. A few tears fall, it doesn’t matter why now. He takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the movie, on the silent comfort of his mother, but Natsu is still standing there, watching him with an expression he’s too tired to figure out. 

“Don’t stare, Nacchan,” he whines. “I look gross.” His throat hurts so much from crying that the ice cream is almost soothing. He closes his eyes for a moment, feels his mother leave his side after kissing the side of his head, and then a smaller body is curling up against him. Natsu puts her head on his shoulder.

“Do you really hate Tobio now?” Her voice is soft, genuine uncertainty in her words. Hinata feels guilt nestle under his right lung; he won’t be the only one affected by this rapid change in what has become such a constant, but he’s too far gone to be rational. 

“Yes,” he mumbles around his spoon. “I’ll finish school from home, and then I’ll go to France and become a mime and I’ll never speak to him ever again!” 

“But he loves you.” 

Hinata hears the sadness in Natsu’s voice, and it’s wrong. She’s only ten years old and she’s witnessed him cry himself sick no less than three times in such a short amount of time. Maybe if Kageyama’s fears had been true and Natsu was afraid of him, wanted nothing to do with him, things would be better. 

“He didn’t love me enough–“ he hiccups, fighting back another wave of anguish. “He didn’t love me enough to tell anyone. When you love someone you should tell the whole world.” 

He’d hoped for that day for so long. Kageyama would take him somewhere nice and open, the park where they played in between fudge pops, or the mall they both pretended to hate because it was too popular. Kageyama would hold his hands and squeeze them the way he does when he’s nervous, and he’d close his eyes and throw his head, and shout something stupid like:

_”I like your spikes the best!”_

_”I wanna toss to you forever!”_

And people would stare and point and laugh, and Kageyama would turn red but he wouldn’t look away, and Hinata would kiss him and hold him close and they’d be happy. 

“Did he tell you he loved you?” Natsu’s face is squished into his side, her voice muffled. 

Hinata scoffs, his dry bitterness soaking up the tears burning his eyes. “Like twice. And I said it first!” 

_With trembling shoulders and cheeks that were too hot. He whispered the words against slack lips and hung, suspended in silence, until Kageyama smiled and clutched him close._

With a tone far too solemn for any child to use, Natsu says, “If he told _you_ , then he already told his whole world.” 

Hinata ignores her.

She gets up just as their mother returns, and he wastes no time fitting back into her arms, his melted mess of comfort food abandoned on the floor. His tongue feels bloated at the back of his throat; he’s dehydrated and his body aches, legs and shoulders too tight under his skin. But he’s safe here, warm, and if he ends up dozing off again, it’s not like he’s waiting for anyone to call. 

It’s only later—after three cups of water and a hot bath, after laying awake in bed in the dark, his gaze firmly on the ceiling and not his room where his presence is mixed with another—does he realize that Natsu’s words weren’t quite the same as his own.


	5. New Messages #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that I changed the texting format. Adding times made things a bit complicated so I got rid of that. It’ll look more chat room but I prefer that style since I’ve seen it in other fics I like. There will be breaks to show whose point of view it is though. Spaces between texts indicate being sent at different times. No spaces is an in time convo or double texting.

**Moray eel:** Hey hope you’re feeling better. You left the meet up early. If you need anything let me know 

 

 **Moray eel:** The guys have been freaking out about last minute studying. Don’t stress too hard ok?

 

 **Moray eel:** I saw these tiny oranges at the store and they reminded me of you 

 

 **Moray eel:** I’m sorry about what I said okay? It just came out. But everyone agrees what he did was shitty considering we all sacrifice personal plans for the team.  
**Moray eel:** plus the way he just dragged you off was Not Cool  
**Moray eel:** He needs to get his temper in check. That kind of attitude won’t fly for much longer  
**Moray eel:** I don’t know what Itaru saw in him

__________

**Hinata:** How to ghost someone you see six days a week  
 **Kenmeow:** Step 1: don’t talk to them  
 **Kenmeow:** Is you know who still playing the white knight?  
 **Hinata:** Yes but now he’s all soft bc he knows I’m pissed. I told him we needed to talk  
 **Kenmeow:** Already failed step one then  
 **Hinata:** Yep  
 **Kenmeow:** Step 0: kill him  
 **Hinata:** Kenma!  
 **Kenmeow:** No one would suspect you. You’d totally get away with it. Mourn with the rest of the team, say you’ll win a game in his honor, take the truth to your grave  
 **Hinata:** I don’t like how matter of fact this sounds

 

 **Hinata:** y isn’t lev texting me back  
**Hinata:** What did you do to him  
**Hinata:** HES JUST A BOY KENMA  
**Kenmeow:** he talked during movie night. he knew the consequences

__________

**Kageyama:** I will pay you all of my money if you hit me with your car and kill me instantly  
 **Special Kei:** That’s not a lot of money  
 **Kageyama:** i  
 **Kageyama:** wow  
 **Kageyama:** see if I get you that milkshake next time  
 **Special Kei:** why the assisted murder?  
 **Kageyama:** I  
 **Kageyama:** Called coach dad  
 **Special Kei:** Oh my god  
 **Kageyama:** During practice  
 **Special Kei:** Stop  
 **Kageyama:** And Every1 heard me  
 **Special Kei:** At what speed do you want me to hit you at  
 **Kageyama:** Surprise me

 

 **Special Kei:** HOW  
**Kageyama:** My dad sent me a fucking meme and coach called my name while I responded and his contact is DAD and the wires just crossed  
**Special Kei:** who taught him how to maymay?  
**Kageyama:** disowned  
**Kageyama:** and his students. he told them that I played volleyball and they pulled up spongebob almost immediately  
**Special Kei:** I love the young people

__________

**Hinata:** Do i need anything else for the trip? Should I bring bug spray?  
 **Hinata:** I feel bad bc bugs live outside and I'M invading THEIR space so hurting them feels wrong

 

 **Hinata:** Shit what about food do I need to oak extra?  
**Hinata:** Do vending machine cinnamon rolls count as breakfast? Cause I can bring breakfast

 

 **Kenmeow:** Shouyou?  
**Hinata:** Yeah?  
**Kenmeow:** It is. 3 in the morning  
**Hinata:** ….yeah?  
**Kenmeow:** And I’m working on my genocide run  
**Kenmeow:** Just ask kuro to go over your list ok  
**Hinata:** Okay :(  
**Kenmeow:** Don’t do that  
**Hinata:** D:  
**Kenmeow:** Muting you  
**Hinata:** ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

__________

**Star Girl:** Heeeeelp we’re going out with some of Tadashi’s musician friends and I need to look not twelve  
 **Hinata:** What is he gonna wear?  
 **Star Girl:** It’s theme night at wherever we’re going. He said chess. I think they’re all gonna wear black with a white accent piece  
 **Hinata:** Do you have any white dresses or skirts?  
 **Star Girl:** I doooo but they’re all so plain and too girly. Again like I’m 12.  
 **Star Girl:** I don’t wanna be cute girl Yachi I wanna look hot. Sexy. Like I could turn down a lead singer and have him chase after me  
 **Hinata:** I think I love that lmao  
 **Hinata:** Heels?  
 **Star Girl:** The open toe black ankle strap wedges that I by some miracle can actually dance in  
 **Hinata:** Accessories?  
 **Star Girl:** The choker with my birthstone Tadashi got me for Christmas <3  
 **Star Girl:** And maybe one of his fifteen leather cuff bracelets that he KEEPS BUYING despite having SO MANY  
 **Star Girl:** THIS IS WHY YOU CANT AFFORD THE BIG POPCORN BUCKET BABE  
 **Hinata:** GJROSBDJDBDJJDD  
 **Hinata:** DONT FASHION SHAME HIM LMAO  
 **Hinata:** but that sounds good so far. Are you gonna curl your hair? I think it’s long enough for a little swish action  
 **Star Girl:** Maaaaaybe  
 **Star Girl:** I do like a dramatic head turn

 

 **Hinata:** DO THE THING WHERE YOU WEAR HIS SHIRT AS A DRESS  
**Star Girl:** FJDODHDODHDJD YES  
**Hinata:** WHITE SHIRT DRESS BLACK BRA  
**Hinata:** T H O N G  
**Star Girl:** N O  
**Hinata:** W H Y  
**Star Girl:** MY BUTT ISNT GOOD ENOUGH  
**Hinata:** DONT MAKE ME COME OVER THERE I STILL HAVE THOSE PICTURES WE TOOK OF YOU IN YOU KNOW WHAT  
**Star Girl:** YOU DO?!?!!  
**Hinata:** No. Bc I don’t trust my teammates  
**Hinata:** BUT YOUR BUTT IS SUPER CUTE AND YAMS LOVES IT  
**Star Girl:** hnnn  
**Hinata:** ASSERT YOUR DOMINANCE AS HIS CHOSEN  
**Star Girl:** HNNNN  
**Hinata:** GET  
**Hinata:** THAT  
**Hinata:** STRAP  
**Star Girl:** DAMN RIGHT  
**Hinata:** GO GET EM TIGER

__________

**Kageyama:** THE DATE  
 **Special Kei:** … it’s the 21st  
 **Kageyama:** AKITERU  
 **Special Kei:** my name is Kei  
 **Kageyama:** I’m gonna kill you  
 **Kageyama:** What happened with his proposal?!  
 **Special Kei:** Oh that  
 **Special Kei:** It worked  
 **Kageyama:** Really?!?!  
 **Special Kei:** Unfortunately  
 **Kageyama:** ????  
 **Special Kei:** We agreed that using Valentine’s Day was a flat out dishonorable excuse and a ploy to pressure innocent infatuated fools into accepting invasive public proposals correct?  
 **Kageyama:** I can read some of those words sure  
 **Special Kei:** Sigh  
 **Special Kei:** She. Also proposed  
 **Kageyama:** No  
 **Special Kei:** On Valentine’s Day  
 **Kageyama:** NO  
 **Special Kei:** By sneaking the ring into his dessert box  
 **Kageyama:** IM  
 **Kageyama:** DISGUSTED  
 **Special Kei:** She had this whole speech about feeling safe with him and brave and that she knew they were soulmates when they both realized that eating an entire pizza Alone was on their bucket lists  
 **Special Kei:** And I know this because her sister recorded it. She and her “future bridesmaids” were in on it  
 **Kageyama:** I feel like throwing up my gums are bleeding my teeth have eroded away  
 **Kageyama:** HOW. WHY. W H Y  
 **Kageyama:** Did Akiteru get to propose??!?!  
 **Special Kei:** Oh yes. He refused to be left out  
 **Kageyama:** You can stop right there  
 **Special Kei:** Her ring?  
 **Kageyama:** If you ever loved me at all you’ll spare me this tragedy  
 **Special Kei:** Was frozen in a Spherical Ice Cube in her champagne  
 **Kageyama:** I cannot. Comprehend. Everything wrong with this visual  
 **Kageyama:** Who the Fuck puts ice in champagne?! That’s like putting ice in milk  
 **Special Kei:** She does that too  
 **Kageyama:** She does NOT  
 **Special Kei:** I saw her putting ice in hot chocolate once. Her reasoning? It wasn’t snowing so she couldn’t hold it out the window to collect any  
 **Kageyama:** I  
 **Kageyama:** Hope he’s happy with his protagonist fiancé.  
 **Special Kei:** I’ll give you all of my money to hit me with my car killing me instantly  
 **Kageyama:** You can’t die yet I need to be at this train wreck wedding I’m too invested in this  
 **Special Kei:** U G H

__________

**Eto:** DID YOU PASS?!?!?!?!?

 

 **Kageyama:** ya

 

 **Eto:** yeeeeet we going to Scribbled to celebrate come with  
**Kageyama:** the food there is terrible  
**Eto:** we’re not going for food we’re going to get fucked up  
**Eto:** Just us tho, no uppers allowed  
**Kageyama:** I think I’ll pass this time  
**Kageyama:** thx tho

 

 **Eto:** I’ll get you one of these days. Have a good break man

__________

**Hinata:** Coach says it’s your turn to come in early and set up  
 **Kageyama:** K

__________

**Kageyama:** Coach says it’s your turn to mop this week  
 **Hinata:** K

__________

**Worst Crush:** I hope you know that I’m heartbroken by your choices.  
 **Kageyama:** I need a place to stay that’s close by for One Night oh my god  
 **Kageyama:** I’m spending the rest of break at your place anyway!  
 **Worst Crush:** Akira and Yuutarou are gonna take over the guest room. You’ll be left with the pullout couch.  
 **Kageyama:** I slept in my backyard for a week once I’ll be fine  
 **Kageyama:** don’t pout  
 **Worst Crush:** IM NOT  
 **Worst Crush:** I just. Miss you guys. It’s been too long since we’ve all gotten together. And spring break isn’t exactly long  
 **Kageyama:** I’ll take the first train that I can. Promise  
 **Worst Crush:** Fiiiiiiine if you insist  
 **Worst Crush:** Sleep tight Tobio Chan  
 **Kageyama:** u 2  
 **Kageyama:** senpai  
 **Worst Crush:** KESHKHFDB  
 **Worst Crush:** SAY IT AGAIN OH MY GOD SAY IT AGAI N  
 **Kageyama:** (( _ _ ))..zzzZZ 


	6. Chapter 6

The apartment that Kenma and Kuroo share rests on the corner of a quiet neighbor, nestled against a cute little bakery that smells like fresh cinnamon rolls in the fall and sells bagels almost as big as Hinata’s head. They live on the fourth floor, and have a balcony that faces out towards the street. Kenma thinks it’s too open, and likes keeping the curtains closed. Kuroo likes to people watch.

“Quiz me one more time.” Hinata pleads, trying not to sound desperate. He arrived earlier that morning with his (probably) over packed duffle bag, and has been glued to Kenna’s side ever since. 

He wasn’t _nervous_ , of course not! He was simply being cautious. This was the first time since entering university that he would be meeting new people, and he wanted to make a good impression. He thought Kenma of all people would understand that. 

“We’ve been over this three times already,” Kenma drawls from under him. He had been working on his programming project when Hinata arrived, but after five minutes of nudging and forced cuddling, he realized he may as well take a break. 

Hinata digs his forehead into Kenma’s shoulder. “C’moooon. Just one more time, I just need to be sure.” There were three other people besides him and Kuroo going on this trip, and he knew next to nothing about them. Spending a week in the woods with strangers wasn’t something he thought he’d ever be doing, but running away from your problems had to have a few consequences.

“There’s Kuroo, the big obnoxious one,” Kenma says, having given up on calming him. “There’s _you_ , the small annoying one–“

“Hey!” 

“And the rest are somewhere in between.” Kenma huffs when his character dies and straightens his shoulders under the weight on his back. “You’ll know Geo when you see him, trust me. Al is the most tolerable, an—“

“And Kuroo is _Chem_ , right, like chemistry?” When Hinata was first freaking out about the trip over the phone, Kenma tried to lessen his fears by telling him “They’ve all got dumb nicknames based on what math or science subject they’re best at. They’re total dorks, Shou, go to bed.” It had helped. For like a few hours. Now he was back to freaking out. 

“Is he still freaking out?” 

Kuroo steps out of the kitchen with half an apple in his hand. He takes a bite, observing his best friend and his best friend’s new backpack. He looks very camp-y with his cargo shorts, sturdy looking boots, and lightweight t-shirt. His camping pack was very professional too, a seasoned woodsman.

“No!” 

“Yes,” Kenma sighs over the sound of knocking at the door. Hinata tenses, clinging to his back like a koala. Kenma, officially done with him, rolls out from under him and slides to the floor. 

“Don’t leave me,” Hinata wails pitifully, grabbing at his ankle as Kenma kicks his way across the floor. Behind him Kuroo chuckles as he goes and answers the door. Hinata tries not to panic and closes his eyes, calling upon things that make him feel safe. His bed at home, his mom’s hugs, Natsu’s laugh, fast texts from Kenma, hitting a good toss, the smell of clean laundry as he rolls around in it…

“Hey Hey Hey!! I believe I was promised a little birdie?” 

Hinata’s meditative bubble pops with the force of his scream. He’s tripping over Kenma’s feet and the coffee table and the rug in his haste to reach that voice that he would recognize anywhere. The voice that lives in dozens of voicemails asking how he is and telling him stories, because that voice knows him better than anyone would’ve thought it could. 

“BOKUTO-SAN!!”

He doesn’t jump into his arms like he did at sixteen, seventeen, but he slams into him and pushes his face into the wide, solid chest that rumbles with affection as strong arms squeeze him close, until the anxiety is all but gone. He stays like that, his breathing synching up with the steady cadence of Bokuto’s murmured conversation, until slender fingers rub through his hair. He blinks out of his daze and meets a pair of calm eyes. 

“Akaashi-san?”

“Hello, Shouyou.” A kind, reserved smile relaxes his shoulders, and he manages to pull away from Bokuto. Though he doesn’t go very far. 

“What are you doing here?” Hinata asks with a confused little smile. He hasn’t seen the former setter in a handful of months, hasn’t heard him outside of the background of his calls with Bokuto in an even longer time. 

Akaashi walks further into the apartment and drops a duffle bag Hinata hadn’t noticed onto the floor behind the couch. “I’m keeping Kenma company while you three get eaten alive by bugs.” He makes a face that shows just how not on board he is with the prospect of camping. 

Three? Hinata rocks back on his heels, mentally counting himself and Kuroo. The gears begin to turn as he steps back and fully takes in Bokuto’s appearance. Sturdy shoes, cargo pants, a bandana tying back his unruly hair.

“You...you’re Geo?” He asks, quiet and uncertain. 

“Yeah!” Bokuto laughs, not as loud as it once was but no less full. “I love shapes!” 

Such a simple admission, said so casually and easy. Of course he likes shapes! He doesn’t have to explain why or when or for how long he’s liked them. He doesn’t pull out paper and a pencil and sketch three dimensional figures to prove that he can do what he says he can. He likes shapes, and that’s all Hinata needs to know to believe him. 

Distantly, through the closed balcony doors behind him, a horn honks. Several times in quick bursts before a long, drawn out wail reaches them. Kuroo throws the doors open and shouts below to who Hinata assumes make up the rest of their camping party. He grabs his two, fully stuffed backpacks, and politely looks away as Bokuto pulls Akaashi close enough to kiss goodbye. 

Warm fingers curl around his wrist, tugging him back into Kenna’s space. Hinata envelops him in a hug automatically, sighing out the last of his trepidation. 

“You can always stay here with us,” Kenma says into his sideburns. Hinata hums, smushing his cheek harder against the older boys’. 

“I know,” Hinata says, swaying his weight forward so Kenma has to catch him. “But I need this.” He makes to pull away, then thinks better of it and holds on for a while longer. Kenma didn’t live too far from his school, but Hinata couldn’t just hop on a train every time he wanted a hug. He had to be stronger than that. He had to prove he could be fine on his own. 

When they do break apart, with a reluctance that feels like slowly separating Velcro, it’s Kenma who holds on this time. He grips Hinata’s hands tightly, his gaze directed at their shoes. 

“Come back,” he says, mouth twisted to the side. Hinata jerks back, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“What?” He ducks down and tries to meet Kenma’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t I come back?” He wasn’t leaving the country or anything majorly life changing. It was just a camping trip. Even if he wanted to disappear, they only had enough food and water for the week, so unless he mastered the wilderness in that time alone, he wouldn’t be able to survive out there on his own. 

But Kenma wouldn’t let up on it. “Just promise me that you’ll come back.” He squeezes his hands, almost to the point of pain, and Hinata nods frantically. 

“Y-yeah, I promise. I’ll come back.” He smiles, wrapping Kenma up in another brief hug. His chest feels tight as he forces himself to breathe normally. The former Nekoma setter has always been intense, but Hinata hasn’t seen that side of him for a few years now. It’s unsettling and comforting all at once. 

Kenma, seemingly satisfied, gives him a tiny smile of his own before moving on to Kuroo. Their hug is much longer, so long that Bokuto has to jokingly pull them apart. He pouts when Kenma refuses his arms in favor of taking Akaashi’s bag down the hall to where Hinata knows his room is. Outside the horn honks again, and he knows it’s time to go. 

They ride the elevator down to the lobby, a comfortable silence settling over them like a new shirt. Hinata can’t remember the last time he was alone with Bokuto or Kuroo without Kenma or another teammate around, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on the potential awkward encounters they might face because they’re stepping out into the lobby.

A large red and black van sits parked out front, and Hinata can tell immediately that it’s lived a full life. The passenger door is dented near the bottom, one of the windows is cracked down the side, and the entire back of the van is covered in stickers. Flowers, food, anime, bad math puns, words in loud fonts and bright colors. This isn’t the kind of van you sell back or trade in. This was someone’s personal stamp, an extension of themselves in motor vehicle form. 

It was, in short, pretty damn cool. 

“Sup, losers!” Kuroo calls out from behind him, making Hinata jump when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. “This is Hinata. Hinata, these are my losers, Calc and Al.” 

Kuroo gestures to a man a little taller than him with dark brown hair, wearing a muscle shirt and sunglasses, and a man shorter than all of them, with sandy blond hair with a four leaf clover tattooed on his wrist, respectively. They simultaneously wave at Hinata and flip Kuroo the bird, a move they’ve perfected with time. 

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Hinata says cheerfully as they load up their bags in the trunk. Everything is arranged neatly to optimize the space, and he wonders how many times Kuroo and his friends have made this trip. 

“No worries, man,” Calc says, moving aside a cooler so Bokuto can slide his gigantic backpack up against the wall. “Good to have ya.” 

Al gently bumps his shoulder as he passes by. “Yeah, seriously. We see these two jokers way too often. It’s nice to have some variety.” 

The trunk closes with a satisfying slam, and then they’re all piling inside: Calc in the driver’s seat with Kuroo taking shotgun, Bokuto in the very back, stretching his long legs across all three seats, and Hinata and Al in the middle, with a mini cooler of water on the floor between them. Kuroo turns on the radio, and starts belting out words before Hinata can even catch the rhythm of the song. Bokuto joins in once they reach the city, and things continue on like that until they get tired. 

Then they just...talk. 

The easy flow of banter around him reminds Hinata of lazy, summer nights after practice, when the team would walk home together, branching off on different streets until they all went their separate ways. It was easy back then, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be easy now. So when there’s a lull in conversation he doesn’t try to fill it. Instead, he watches the world on the other side of the glass, taking in flashes of color and snatches of daily lives. There are so many people out today, either in traffic with them or biking or walking or jogging. There’s a woman pushing a stroller, who passes by a couple at an outdoor cafe. Perhaps she hears what they’re saying, and forms an opinion about them that she won’t remember when she reaches the end of the street. 

Hinata forgets about them all after three stop lights. 

He falls asleep before they reach the highway, the adrenaline and anxiety bleeding out into lethargy. He kicks his shoes off and curls up into a ball, doing his best not to encroach on Al’s space. He fades in and out, waking up to fingers in his hair and debates about spray cheese. It reminds him of bus rides after away games, when the team subcombs to sleep row by row, and sleepy, incoherent conversations are given the utmost importance. 

Mori had called him last night, telling him to stay safe and have fun. Hinata knee he wanted to say more, knew he wanted to ask questions. And Hinata only has himself to blame. Because he _had_ led him on, hadn’t he? Not intentionally, not with any vicious motives or the want to hurt him, but for his own self worth. He was trying to prove to himself that he was still desirable, that he could catch the eye of someone without all of the awkward phases shaping their opinion of him. So he kept Mori close, waving the Friend card whenever he felt like things were heading down a serious road. 

That night at the Inn, that first night, he had planned on kissing him. 

The team knew they liked to flirt with each other, and Mori didn’t exactly keep his feelings a secret. Hinata was a hands on learner, so he figured that all he needed to jumpstart his romantic instincts was to set a romantic mood. He hasn’t kissed many people since graduating, but he’d kissed enough to feel confident with his plan. 

But then Kageyama entered the room, skin dry, eyes dull, with a look of hesitation in his eyes that Hinata still hadn’t gotten used to, despite the fact that Kageyama had looked at him that way since they showed up for the first morning practice of their university careers. Dull, cautious eyes that used to light up whenever they would meet Hinata’s on the court, and then later in the halls or over video chat. Sometimes even in his dreams. 

He misses Karasuno, sure. But he misses his friend even more. 

When they arrive at the campsite the sun is in the middle of the sky, warm and shiny and bright like a half sucked lemon candy. Hinata breathes in the almost overwhelming scents of the forest nearby, air so fresh it should be illegal, and greenery thicker than syrup. He wants to build a nest of leaves and sleep for a few hours, or build a hut out of branches bigger than his body and become a mythical legend. 

The whole thing is more official than he had imagined. The van is parked in a space big enough for a camper, the kind he pictured living in when he was eight and fantasized about him and Natsu riding around and solving mysteries. They’re actually in a gigantic, dirty parking lot; other cars and vans are parked in a similar fashion, and groups of people wander around with backpacks and maps, talking to people wearing green and red and yellow vests and funny looking hats, like a cowboy’s but more...bulbous. 

“Park rangers?” He muses aloud to no one in particular. It makes sense in hindsight, and it’s not like he thought a handful of university students could truly rough it in the woods without some kind of structure. Admittedly—and with some embarrassment—Hinata hadn’t thought much about anything involving this trip. Nothing came to mind besides _escape escape escape._

Kuroo and Calc talk to a Red Vest, while Al, Hinata and Bokuto unload the van. Hinata notes with happiness that the coolers, one big and two small, have wheels underneath, and sturdy handles like those on a suitcase. Hinata goes to grab his phone to take a picture but finds his pocket empty. Panic flutters in his chest, until he remembers that his phone is with Kenma 

“You’ll get used to it,” Al says with a little laugh, watching him deflate. “My first time I kept waking up with the birds cause i thought it was a Twitter notifications.” 

Once Kuroo and Calc return they set off, leaving the van keys with Red Vest. Their path is a lesser used one, going up into the mountain rather than staying level with the parking lot (Green Trail), or heading down towards the river (Yellow Trail). Hinata can’t say that he doesn’t like the privacy. 

Al takes point, pulling the cooler of water behind him, humming a jaunty tune that stops and starts in off rhythm places. Bokuto brings up the rear, lugging the heavy food cooler with the ease of someone who could toss his friends across the room if he wanted. Hinata stays close to him, in no hurry to walk with Kuroo and Calc, who chat about school things and work things and relationship things. All things that Hinata was specifically avoiding. 

After a while, twenty minutes or so, they grow quiet, and the wildlife starts to sing its song. With the path mostly clear, a steady incline working his calves and thighs, Hinata closes his eyes and strains his ears to hear as much as he can. The rustling of leaves as squirrels scamper and scurry along the forest floor and up into the trees; the soft calling of birds as they circled high in the air. Hinata spreads out his arms and tips his face up to the sun and breathes in deeply, holding the fresh air into his body until he’s dizzy. Then he lets it out slow, releasing his stress and the dust cloud kicked up by his frantically moving thoughts. 

About halfway up the mountain, or what Kuroo told him was halfway, Hinata trips over a rock and _properly_ eats shit, face planting in the dirt with a wet sounding gasp of surprise. The bad news is that his knees ache like a bad round of flying falls. The good news is that Bokuto carries him the rest of the way up, while the others carry their things as compensation for laughing before asking if he was alright. Hinata might play up his injury for an extra bag of trail mix, but no one calls him out on it. 

By mid afternoon everyone is tired and sweaty and thirsty, but they refuse to stop once the ground levels out and the trail starts branching off in different directions. Hinata attempts to key out landmarks from his vantage point on Bokuto’s back, but every tree looks greener than the last, and after their third right turn through a path of bushes so dense he can scarcely see the trail, he gives up on trying. 

Hinata feels like he can fall asleep again, trusting Bokuto not to drop him. But his eyes are only closed for a few minutes when Al lets out an excited yell and breaks out into a run, the cooler bumping along on the uneven, rocky ground behind him. Calc and Kuroo share a surprised look, before breaking out into wide grins and taking off after Al, stumbling with the weights on their backs. 

“Hang on!” Bokuto tells him, tightening his grip on Hinata’s legs. Hinata tucks his face into his broad shoulder, and holds fast when the wind picks up as they fly across the forest floor. He feels a manic grin settle over his face, the others’ excitement incredibly contagious. They must be close! 

They don’t stop until Al collapses on a soft looking patch of grass and groans appreciatively, kicking his feet and rolling over like a dog. “Oh my _god,_ I’ve missed this place!” 

Bokuto drops to his knees and sends Hinata—as gently as he can—to the surprisingly soft forest floor, before he, too, flops on the ground and groans his appreciation. Hinata curls up on his side and threads his fingers through long blades of grass, breathing in the fresh scent of earth and damp leaves. 

Suddenly he’s six years old, hidden inside the hollowed base of a tree that’s larger than life. He feels safe there, warm despite the rain falling in buckets mere inches from his face. High above him, baby birds call frantically for their mother, and Hinata fears that they too are left alone, lost in a crowd too selfish to accommodate for his little legs to keep up with them. But soon, their calls turn to contentment, and a loving coo calms his racing heart.

Hinata sits up slowly, fully taking in his surroundings. The grassy field they’re on now edges out into a wide, slightly sunken pit, which is more tightly packed dirt than overgrown grass. It’s pretty damn big, enough for four tents to nestle in close together without sitting on top of each other. Cozy, secluded, safe. Hinata wants to burrow under the feeling and never leave. 

They rouse one by one, wiping hands on pants and pretending stray tears are sweat. Kuroo, Calc and Al spread out to three corners of the circle, claiming their spots around what Hinata can only assume is the fire pit. Hinata picks up his sleeping bag and weighs it in his hands like one night do with a watermelon. He had told Kenma he wanted to sleep under the stars, so he hadn’t bothered getting a tent. Perhaps that was a mistake. 

“Hey, Bokuto-san?” He sidles up next to the older man, eyes wide and pleading. “Could I bunk with you?” He could sleep under the stars no problem, but only for a night. Maybe two if he was lucky. But it isn’t quite summer yet, and the last thing he needs is to go back to school sneezing and coughing. 

Bokuto, bless him, doesn’t ask any difficult questions. “You sure? I snore pretty loud sometimes.”

A snort across the way has him ducking his head sheepishly. Hinata beams, dropping his sleeping bag in favor of unpacking their tent. It was a hideously bright yellow with brown spots, like a giraffe. 

“Yeah! I don’t mind.” He pretends like he isn’t getting tangled up in nylon and metal sticks. “Tanaka snored so much during our trips that I’ve gotten used to it.”

(He doesn’t mention all the times he’s fallen asleep to Kageyama's gentle rumbling. His snoring always reminded him of a cat’s purr, less annoying and more adorable. He wonders if he still snores, if he’s trying those nasal strip things or if he’s stopped caring about what his body does during the night.) 

They pitch the tent, and then they do it again when it falls apart, those leftover parts not nearly as useless as they looked. By the time everyone is settled and unpacked, Hinata feels like he could eat that pile of bark near the edge of the camp. It looks like jerky. Maybe if he thinks hard enough it’ll taste like jerky, too. 

“Alright boys!” Kuroo claps his hands twice to get everyone’s attention. “Job time. Bo, you’re tying up the coolers and hanging them from that branch.” He points to a thick, sturdy looking branch a good few meters in the air, on a tree a few feet away from their tents. No worries about being crushed during the night, then. 

“Calc, my lovely pyro, you’re in charge of the fire pit.” He draws a circle in the dirt with his foot, not too close to the tents but not too far. “Preferably in a nice triangular—“

“I know which shapes are best for campfires, Chem.” Calc rolls his eyes, grabbing a nearby stick to start drawing outlines for stones. Kuroo huffs, turning away dramatically. 

“Fine, fine, you do you. Al!” He turns a bright smile to the other member of their group. “Since you’re clearly the smartest and most tactile of our ragtag group of—“

“Save the pep talks for Kenma,” Al interrupts with a sigh. “I’ve dug the shit pit for three years in a row and honestly? I don’t trust any of you to do it justice.” He produces a short shovel out of his bag and jabs it at Kuroo’s stomach—missing intentionally or by accident—before marching off in what Hinata thinks is the ‘down wind’ direction, even if he doesn’t really remember what that means. 

As he watches the others drift off in different directions, Hinata is painfully aware of how out of his element he is. Their easy comradery, how comfortable they seem with each other, does nothing but remind him about all the problems he left back in the city. He wishes he didn’t want to be away from volleyball, from his team, people who were meant to be his friends. 

“What about me?” Hinata asks, desperate for a distraction. He wants to feel useful, like a participant on this trip rather than an observer. 

“ _We_ are getting firewood.” Kuroo raises his eyes to the sky, shields them from the random streams of light that emit through gaps in the leaves. “It’ll be dusk before we know it, and as nice as cuddling for warmth is, I think I’d prefer something more reliable.” 

Hinata tugs at the hem of his shirt; a bright yellow and green tie-dye mess Natsu had made for him last summer. He misses them suddenly, greatly, so much that it leaves him dizzy. Leaves him guilty. He should be home, because even locked in his own tornado of bullshit he knows that he’s needed for more than just dates and spiking. He had responsibilities back home, chores and conversations to have with his mother. Important talks with his sister that needed to be in person rather than through text or phone call. 

It’s easy to fall behind Kuroo’s natural, long legged stride, but he doesn’t walk so fast that Hinata has to jog to catch up to him. Oddly enough, he finds that he wouldn’t need to catch up anyway; his steps are two paces behind Kuroo, an impossibility some three years ago. It surprises him all the time how a few inches in height can change his entire way of living, a change he, thankfully, isn’t afraid to fully embrace. 

He doesn’t know which direction they’re going; the trees and bushes blending into colors that his mind refuses to put into focus. He picks up a few thin sticks at random to feel useful, waiting for the moment to pass. In snatches of awareness, the forest truly is beautiful. Spring is nothing but beginnings, the peaceful end of winter that brings about warmer days and brighter colors. Hinata hadn’t known he missed green so much until now. 

“So!” Kuroo says, bright and peppy like a camp counselor. “What are you hiding from?” 

It amazed Hinata how little you could know a person you’ve seen for years of your life. To him, Kuroo Tetsurou has always been seen as someone else. Kenna’s best friend, Nekoma’s captain, Tsukishima’s boyfriend. They were connected by enough points to be friendly, but right now, staring at his slowly advancing figure, Hinata can’t help but wonder if they’re actually friends or not. 

“I.. what?” Hinata bends down to gather a more sufficient bundle of sticks, significantly bigger than the twigs still clutched in his fist. “I don’t understand..” 

“This isn’t exactly a spur of the moment trip,” Kuroo says without slowing down or even looking back. His arms are empty at his sides, and he hasn’t once stopped to pick up any wood for the fire. “But I think you knew that already.”

He hadn’t known it at all, actually. The selfish gremlin squatting in his brain was only concerned with running away from the stress that had pressed down on his shoulders ever since that last, game losing spike back in January. He blames it on adrenaline, on desperation, because in the entirety of their partnership, all five years of it, Hinata has never not connected with Kageyama’s toss. 

The ball had skimmed the tips of his fingers, the toss too high or his jump too short. When his feet hit the ground the rest of his body followed, his limbs too heavy with the crush of defeat. But more than that, he was hurt, pained in a way that felt too big for his body. Weary eyes swept over his teammates, blurry with the sudden onslaught of tears that he refused to shed. A hand had appeared in front of him, and hope choked Hinata as he grasped it. 

It wasn’t right, the fingers too thin, the palm too small. Mori gave him a sad smile, and squeezed his hand as if to comfort him. Hinata barely saw his face, his own eyes just over his shoulder. Kageyama had stood there, alone, staring at his hands with the most hateful expression Hinata had ever seen the setter make. 

And then those eyes turned to him, and Hinata had to look away. There was an apology there that he didn’t want to see. 

“Do you always talk like some cryptic video game NPC?” Hinata asks as he hurries to catch up. He makes sure to walk beside Kuroo rather than behind him. Between the long drive and the confusion he’s starting to get a little crabby. “What are you hiding from then, huh?”

Kuroo raises his brows in amusement, casting a sideways glance at Hinata that the younger boy returns. For a long time they’re both quiet, the sound of soft soil and dry leaves crushing under their feet the only noise allowed. Hinata has given up all hope of an answer when Kuroo bends down and grabs his first stick. 

“My moms.” He speaks to the ground, staying hunched over like the words are a physical weight. “For the fourth year in a row.” 

Kuroo isn’t smiling when he rises back up, but he doesn’t look particularly sad. After examining the stick he nods to himself and pushes on, grabbing a few here and there. At this rate they really will need to cuddle to stay warm. 

Hinata struggles to find the right words as he follows, grabbing a few bunches of tiny, soft twigs that remind him of hay. Kindling, he thinks, if all of the survival games Kenma has made him sit through have taught him anything. 

“Why would you want to hide from your moms?” He asks when nothing better comes along. He’s never met Kuroo’s parents, but he’s heard plenty of stories about the levelheaded wife who got herself wrapped up with Kuroo-san and her son’s playful scheming ways. He felt kin to the former captain in that regard. His own mother has spent eight years raising Natsu and himself on her own, and not a day goes by that Hinata doesn’t miss her. 

Kuroo won't look at him now, actively avoiding his gaze. Hinata has never seen him as anything less than confident, playful or determined. He looks younger somehow, just as uncertain about the words in his head as Hinata has been for weeks. 

“I didn’t say I wanted to hide, just that I am.” They’ve stopped moving again, and though Hinata now has a sizable fire-to-be in his arms, Kuroo is still mostly empty handed. Hinata doesn’t comment on it, nor does he push the older man to speak. He still doesn't understand what he meant about hiding, but right now doesn’t feel like a good time to ask questions. 

Kuroo looks at him then, and it feels like he’s seeing Hinata for the first time. As a person rather than an extension of his childhood friend, or a rival player. Hinata wonders if that’s his problem, one of them at least. He’s put everyone back home into categories; old teammates, new teammates, potential boyfriends and enemies. He can’t remember the last time he looked at someone on campus without judging them first. 

“Okay, so, I’m ninety-nine percent certain that I want to be a chemistry teacher?” Kuroo says it all in a rush, talking with his hands. “I love it, I’m good at it, and I know teaching isn’t the highest paid profession, but one day you wake up and decide that quality of life is more important than quantity in the bank.” 

A look of slow dawning horror crosses over his face. “Holy shit. I’m old.” 

Hinata laughs despite his shock. On the drive up here, Kuroo lamented for half an hour about how he was turning twenty-three this year. Bokuto tried to comfort him, stating that his birthday was before Kuroo’s, and that he’d go to the Old People Committee meeting and let him copy his notes. 

“That sounds incredible,” Hinata tells him sincerely. “You’d make an awesome teacher, Kuroo. Just exchange volleyball for chemistry and you’re already halfway there!” He sets off down the path again, moving them forward. “But, why would you need to hide this from your moms?” 

Kuroo is quiet as he follows Hinata’s lead, thoughtful. The slight tilt of his brows mix well with the small shafts of light that beam down at them through gaps in the leaves high above. Like the older man is walking further and further into his own mind. 

“They believe in me so much,” he sighs, pushing his heavy fringe off of his forehead, and Hinata stumbles over dirt, because he’s never seen Kuroo’s face unobstructed before. “What if I can’t do it? What if I tank my classes, or get rejected, or change my mind at the last minute?”

“I just..needed an escape from their optimism, I guess.” Kuroo laughs at himself without humor. “Pretty lame, huh?” 

“No. Not at all.” 

Sometimes the worst thing to hear was how much faith others had in your abilities, especially if you weren’t so sure of them yourself. 

Things seem easier after that. Kuroo shows him the type of sticks to collect, pointing out different types of trees and bushes as they pass. By the time they turn around to head back to camp, Hinata feels like he’s back in grade school on a nature hike field trip. 

“Tsukki has two moms, did you know that?” This time when Hinata laughs it’s ernest, because yes, he did know. Kuroo mentioned it twice on the drive up here, too. 

Hinata watches him come to life, hazel eyes gaining a spark that wasn’t there before. “It’s all we talked about for the first few weeks after we started dating.” His smile is wide and sincere, the very definition of smitten. 

“It’s uh, weird how close they got, huh? Tsukishima and Kageyama.” Hinata can feel phantom hands squeezing the back of his neck, urging and pleading for him to shut up! 

Kuroo glances at him, a wry smile on his lips. That was probably the most transparent thing he’s ever said out loud to another human being, and his face burns so hot from shame he thinks they might not even need a campfire. 

“I think it’s cute,” Kuroo says after letting Hinata squirm for a bit. “Kageyama is the reason Kei went out with me at all, if you can believe that.”

He couldn’t. Not at all. 

“Which reminds me..” He looks down at his side, at the pocket he usually kept his phone in. “I should call him once we’re back. It’s been a few weeks since we last talked.” 

“You talk to Kageyama? Like, on the phone?”

“Yeah?” Now he’s frowning, shifting his armful of firewood to stare at Hinata with something like disapproval. “Don’t you?” 

Hinata’s call log with Kageyama is bone dry. They used to talk all the time, after Kageyama stopped being afraid. Before school while they got dressed one handedly, after school before dinner, before going to bed. When they started dating, Kageyama wouldn’t even wait until he got home. He would sit at the corner where they parted ways—usually after a few kisses—and leave voicemails for Hinata to listen to whenever he wanted. 

When they broke up, Hinata couldn’t bring himself to delete them, so he got a new phone instead. 

“We see each other at practice all the time, so there’s really no need for phone calls.” He says with a shrug, keeping his eyes forward. It’s not like he avoids talking to Kageyama. They’re adults now, big boys with important schoolwork and responsibilities that take priority over goofing off and messing around. If they want to make it to the top there can’t be any room for error. 

There can’t be any more games like January. 

“He’s still my—he still sets for me.” 

Kuroo doesn’t ask anymore questions after that. Hinata refuses to look at him, not wanting to see his expression. He has plenty of pity for himself, thank you very much. 

The return to camp is much faster than the departure. Kuroo had lead them in a wide semicircle, so when they emerged from the trees, Al has returned and is heckling Calc about his lackluster fire pit. Bokuto is stretched out on his stomach like a cat in a beam of sunlight, and after adding his firewood to the haphazard pile next to Calc, Hinata decides to join him. 

The remaining daylight hours seem to pass without notice. Al shows them where the aforementioned Shit Pit is, and walks Hinata though how to take a proper crap in the woods. Kuroo makes them hike back down to the parking lot, taking lead with Hinata, the least experienced navigator. 

“In case of an emergency—a fire we can’t control, severe injury, axe murderer—it’s best to know where to go, and fast.” 

Hinata leads them back, only getting kind of lost after the second seemingly pointless left turn. 

Dinner that night is jerky, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—varying combinations of jellies, smooth and crunchy peanut butter, and banana for a little chaos—and powdered lemonade that’s activated when poured into water and shaken up. It feels a lot like summer camp. All they’re missing is a guitar and someone too enthusiastic to get embarrassed about singing in front of a bunch of strangers. 

With a pang of longing, Hinata realizes that someone used to be him. 

At some point, between frying banana slices and resisting the urge to (stupidly) snort any leftover powder, Calc pulls out a plastic baggy that definitely isn’t trail mix. No one else seems to pay him any mind; Bokuto and Kuroo are tossing bits of jerky into each other’s mouths and Al is drawing in the dirt with a stick. From his spot next to him, Hinata can make out a few tiny mermaids and what can only be seaweed. Or eels standing upright. 

He looks back to Calc, curiosity getting the better of him. All Hinata knows about smoking comes from Kenma, who has an oddly attractive pink bong that he likes to break out sometimes when Hinata spends the weekend. He’s never even watched him set it up, so in the end he’s left to stare like a kid at his first boy/girl party. 

Calc grinds up the clump of green in what Hinata thinks is a grinder. He lays it out on the thin sheet of paper and twists it a bit to pack it closer. He’s got nice hands, wide palms and clean nails despite the hours spent messing around in the dirt. Hinata catches a glimpse of his tongue as he seals the joint, and waits for the familiar jolt of attraction in his stomach. 

It doesn’t come. 

He watches as Calc blow warm smoke past his lips, and tries to imagine what kissing him might taste like. He isn’t nervously embarrassed by his line of thinking like he used to be, and that upsets him so much he doesn’t see that the smoke has drifted closer. 

Al turns to Hinata and holds out the joint, one bushy eyebrow raised. It looks polite, inquisitive rather than assuming. 

Hinata means to decline maturely, a smile with a head shake. A calm wave of the hand and a laugh. Instead he blurts out “I-I’m an athlete!” like a bumbling first year student. 

Al laughs with his whole body, throwing his head back and sending thick smoke into the sky. It’s a nice sound, warm and full, nothing held back. Although that could just be the weed. “It’s cool, man. Geo?” 

Bokuto snorts and shakes his head. “Not tonight.” 

Hinata watches as Kuroo joins the clan of dragons, feeling a heavy kind of melancholy settle over him. When Bokuto takes the flashlight to go to the Shit Pit, Hinata follows, though he keeps a respectable distance while Bokuto does his thing. He’s always been a bit bathroom shy, so it takes a while for him to get going. Bokuto loudly hums the Naruto opening, walking away a few paces to give him privacy. Hinata laughs so hard he almost falls into the hole, but the distraction works just like a running sink back at home. 

When they return to camp the fire is little more than embers, bright cinnamon candies underneath the soot and dirt. Calc finishes putting it out once they’re safely in their shared tent. 

“Get some sleep, kids!” Calc tells them cheerfully. “We’re gettin’ up bright and early tomorrow.” 

Hinata slides out of his shoes and kicks them into the corner, wanting to give Bokuto as much space as possible. He wiggles into his sleeping bag and closes his eyes, laying still and stiff, like his first sleepover with Izumi and Kouji. He wants to feel that nervous excitement that always came with the first night of sleepaway camp, but all he feels is out of place. 

“Don’t worry too much, kay?” Bokuto’s sleepy voice says behind him. Hinata turns to face him, wriggling like a bright green caterpillar since he zipped himself in. He looks different with his hair down. Softer, older, mature in a way that has nothing to do with his muscles or jawline. It’s in his eyes, in the calm way he observes Hinata. Not with want or anger or pity or sadness, not expectant or pleading or reflective. He doesn’t have to pause to age Hinata out of his round and excitable face at sixteen. He see him _right now_. In this moment in time as an adult. 

Or as close to adult as anyone at age twenty can be seen as. 

And even though Bokuto doesn’t know what he’s worried about—Hinata wished he did so he could tell him how to fix himself—his quietly murmured advice sits warmly in his stomach. 

Kuroo’s words ring softly in his head, less accusing in the darkness. What are you hiding from? What problem couldn’t Bokuto solve that was bad enough to push him into the wilderness? 

“Kay.” Hinata closes his eyes and wiggles some more before finding a comfortable position. Under his side of the tent the earth slopes in a gentle curve, like a bowl from head to toe, cradling him. He sinks into the feeling, breath evening out. He feels...okay. He feels okay. 

“Goodnight, Shouyou.” 

“Night.. Koutarou.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be honest. I don’t love this chapter. I feel like the characterization is too off and I don’t like that it takes place in one area. That said I didn’t delete it because it answers some questions I don’t feel like rewriting. Plus a little ooc drama is allowed in any long fic so I hope you’ll forgive me.

There was once a time where Kageyama truly admired Kozume Kenma. His skills as a setter weren’t easily matched, and the way his team cared for him made his chest ache for reasons he couldn’t identify at the time. When they started dating, Hinata was positive that the two of them would be good friends, provided he be a little accommodating. 

“Kenma is pretty shy,” Hinata told him once, changing the subject from his own mental health to someone else. “So be nice to him. Don’t loom over him like a big, scary tree—“

“I can’t control how tall I am,” Kageyama had sighed. “And he’s not that short. If he stopped hunching over so much then—“

“—don’t stare at him like a serial killer or yell at him for volleyball tips. Without Kuroo around he’s less likely to be receptive to pestering.”

“He seems fine when _you_ bug the shit outta him.” 

From there things got a little rocky. Not because Hinata was offended, but because he blushed up to his ears, making Kageyama’s mouth twist down into a scowl around his words. He hadn’t known then that you could crush on someone you weren’t dating, and before then he hadn’t known what pure, unfiltered jealousy felt like. 

But for all his scowling and pouting, Kageyama never really thought much of the former Nekoma setter. He had assumed that, despite enrolling in university without the helping hand of his two closest and annoying friends, he was still the timid, skittish volleyball player that only smiled when Hinata was around. 

He should’ve learned his lesson about assuming things years ago. 

“You never told me you two dated.” 

Kageyama looks up from his phone and sees that the game he’d been half watching on the tv was paused. Without the ambient noise of running through grass and weapons breaking every third enemy, the apartment is suddenly plunged into silence. 

“Hmm?” Tsukishima, from his spot in the recliner, meets Kenma’s gaze. “What was that?” 

“Kuro said you guys hooked up a few times.” Kenma lifts a thin eyebrow, mouth curled to the side. “He never said you dated.”

The last few hours have been less than ideal, if anyone bothered to ask Kageyama his opinion, which no has. 

When he asked Tsukishima if he could stay with him the first night of break, he hadn’t pictured sitting in his boyfriend’s apartment wishing he could turn into a cookie crumb just to avoid being looked at. Among them were Akaashi, who turned out to be the person he liked the most out of the four of them, and Kenma, since he lived in the apartment. But the last time he saw Kenma, he and Hinata were still together, and the former setter was more reserved and less...like this. 

“It wasn’t really _dating_ ” Tsukishima says, feigning ignorant of the change in the atmosphere. “Besides, it was forever ago.” 

“How long ago?” Kenma pushes. Kageyama strains to remember what brought them to this ridiculous, awful, better to be forgotten about conversation. Something about princess Zelda working at an animal shelter in an alternate universe. Fate and Link and horses. That weird horse dating sim. Dating apps. Dating. 

Kageyama pries his dry lips open with the tip of his tongue and forces himself to speak. “Okay, like, we were “together” for the summer last year. And before that we hooked up like twice?” He looks to Tsukishima for confirmation. “A little before graduation.”

“How close to graduation?” Akaashi, who’s claimed the other end of the couch, kicks out and hits Kenma’s thigh. His expression briefly turns annoyed before falling back into its resting position.

To anyone else that would’ve been a normal question, if a little nosey. But Kageyama recognizes that tone, even in someone reserved like Kenma. Those sharp, feline eyes dart to his face, as if making sure his words, the spoken and unspoken, ring loud and clear. 

“Would you like it down to the hour or where the sun was in the sky?” Kageyama fires off, pushing his chair back from the little dining table behind the couch.

Kenma _tsks_ turns his attention back to the TV, his shoulders hunched in towards himself. Kageyama, where he might’ve once felt guilty, glares a hole in the back of his head. His totally fake blond head. No one here is fooled. They all know what Kenma is implying, what he wants to say but is too cowardly to say to Kageyama’s face.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Akaashi drapes his arm over the back of the couch to address him, “how _did_ you two get together?” His little smile is amused, but his eyes are kind and cautious. “From what I remember you two weren’t exactly the best of friends.” 

Kageyama grips his anger with shaky fingers and holds it close to his chest to keep warm. “Does it matter?” He asks, his voice not as strong as he wanted it to be. From the corner of his eye he sees Kenma relax a fraction. He holds that anger tighter. 

“Only if it matters to you,” says the quiet, tired monotone. “Like I said, Kuroo never mentioned it.” He looks at Tsukishima again. “Does he know?” 

“You know what they say about cats and curiosity, Kozume-san,” Tsukishima, To his credit, doesn’t sound bothered by the persteding. Maybe he isn’t bothered. Maybe Kageyama, for all his talk and posturing, is the only one upset about their past. 

“Actually, the full quote—“

“If I tell you will you all shut up about it?” 

Guilt of another kind twists Kageyama’s insides. Because this wasn’t just his story, if it was ever his story at all. “You don’t have to, Shima.” He levels another heavy stare at Kenma, who he knows can see him from his peripheral but is (smartly) ignoring him. Tsukishima waves his concerns away.

“Completely unrelated to the former idiot duo, I had the inane thought that confessing to Tadashi the day before Valentine’s Day was a brilliant idea.” Tsukishima looks right at Kenma as he continues. “Which, if I recall, was a week after the King and Shrimpy broke up.” 

He doesn’t let his gaze falter. He doesn’t look away when disbelief and judgment cloud Kenma’s eyes. He doesn’t let what someone else thinks change what he knows to be the truth. Kageyama feels like kissing him. 

“You confessed to him as a joke?” Akaashi asks, his eyes narrowed just a fraction. 

“No.” Tsukishima says easily. “As you can imagine, he didn’t take it well. He and Yachi were already a few months along, and seeing them cling to each other, as you can also imagine, wasn’t very fun for me.” 

Kageyama can picture that nonchalant shrug, the way that film goes down over his eyes, taking away some of his color and expressiveness. Tsukishima has the uncanny ability to hide within himself, and Kageyama hates that he’s not there with him, standing by his side. Because this isn’t his story, but no one is accusing Tsukishima of being a liar, just an ugly accessory to a crime Kageyama didn’t commit. 

“I was miserable, the King was miserable. You’re a smart person, Kozume-san, I think you can connect the dots.” 

“Why would you confess to Yamaguchi knowing he was already with someone else?” 

Kind Akaashi with his genuine interest, his calm tone and his steady gaze. He reminded Kageyama, oddly enough, of Kiyoko-san. They both had this aura of coolness around them that only certain people seemed to be able to penetrate. She was really nice to him once she grew out of her shell, offering smiles and soft words. She held his hand on his graduation day, and had kindly accepted his fourth jacket button. 

(The third he gave to Ennoshita, for taking care of them even before he was captain. He gave the first to Suga, and hid in his embrace for as long as he could. And the second button he made into a necklace for himself, which is what his dad did back in high school, because at the end of the day he was always there for himself. Or something) 

“As opposed to doing what?” Tsukishima asks, somewhat seriously. “Suffering in silence is only attractive when others can see it.” And Kageyama laughs despite himself. 

_”Why do you still look good when you cry?”_

_”Because you’re attracted to my misery, King. I’m honestly convinced you’ve got some kind of crying kink.”_

On the TV the game has resumed, and the quiet they all lapse into isn’t as suffocating as before. Kageyama hasn't felt like this much of an outsider since that last stupid year of junior high. Living with people who existed outside of his line of sight was admittedly more difficult than he had anticipated. Tsukishima, Akaashi And Kenma all had Kuroo as their common denominator, and while Kageyama knew him too, his relationship was nowhere near as close. 

The number of times he’s tuned in to five conversations overlapping each other was comical, and no matter how hard he tried to pretend he didn’t care, the truth was that he was feeling incredibly left out. They don’t do it on purpose (two-thirds of them at least), but there are only so many stories Kageyama feels comfortable sharing before he runs out of stuff to talk about. He tries his best to look interested, to laugh when something sounds funny, and to not get too upset about anything. 

He tries. He really, really does. 

 

~*~

 

There’s something unsettling about being in a stranger’s kitchen during the night. When everyone else is in bed, and the world outside is quiet, it’s one of the worst places to be. 

Before tonight, Kageyama hadn’t realized how loud the refrigerator could be when you’re trying to find a specific takeout container, or how disappointment felt like a kick in the teeth when he realized that his specific container is outright gone. Before tonight he never had to use someone else’s measuring cup to use as a bowl because the dishes were piled high, and the urge to clean them himself had been crushed into dust by the time he even remembered he wasn’t at home, or anywhere he felt comfortable doing chores without being asked. 

Before tonight, he didn’t realize you could have a screaming match without once talking above a murmur. 

Kozume Kenma was not the same shy, lazy, possibly narcoleptic high schooler Kageyama had met at training camp. He let his hair grow out to his shoulders, and went to an actual salon to keep up with his dye job. He’s in school for video game design, and works part time at the bakery next to his apartment. 

He’s also, apparently, a huge asshole now, too.

Because “I know the real reason Shouyou broke up with you” was not a sentence he ever cared to hear. Not now, not in a year, not even in the past when seeing Hinata gave him painful heart palpitations and chest cramps. 

It felt like a bad dream, or one of those bullying storylines in a children’s book. A seemingly unassuming character is mean to the protagonist, but no one else is around to see them. It felt insanely unrealistic. But he had known from the moment he entered the apartment that something was off. The air had been heavy with unspoken conversation when Taukishima met him at the door and showed him to the guest room. Akaashi-san was polite as usual, but the way he spoke to Kenma made it seem like he was annoyed at him about something. At the time, Kageyama couldn’t fathom what someone so quiet could say that would irritate the boyfriend of _Bokuto Koutarou_ , but now he had a pretty good guess. 

It was after dinner; greasy pizza and a Mario Kart tournament that got too personal too quickly, and ended with Tsukishima locking himself in Kuroo’s room without showering, something Kageyama knew would annoy him later. When Akaashi turned in for the night, leaving the two of them alone on opposite sides of the couch, Kageyama spoke. 

“You shouldn’t provoke him like that.” He hadn’t dared to speak above a murmur, no louder than the television. “It’s gonna be hard living here if you’re constantly fighting.”

At first it seemed like Kenma wouldn’t answer, and Kageyama wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed by that prospect. But he didn’t have to wait long for a reply. 

“Kei has his own home.” Kenma spoke even softer than he had. “I told Kuro if he’s that codependent he can move in with him.”

Kageyama snorted before he could stop himself. Kuroo being codependent? He was an enabler definitely, loyal to a fault and blindly optimistic. But he was miles away and Kenma was here playing video games in the dark. 

“Something funny?”

“Besides your racing skills?” Kageyama asked as he red-shelled him out of first place right before the finish line. “Not really.” 

They kept playing, track after track, the silence heavy and full. Kageyama kept his gaze forward, his neck and shoulders growing stiff as a result. He didn’t know if Kenma ever looked over at him. He lacked that ability to sense when he was being watched. 

“What do you have against Tsukishima anyway?” He sighed after falling off the road. “He’s actually not terrible.” 

“Sounds fake but okay,” Kenma had said instead of answering. “I don’t remember Shouyou ever saying you three were the best of friends.”

“We weren’t,” Kageyama admitted, something like fondness curving over his words. “But he came around to us eventually.” 

It was a slow process, one made easier and more difficult by their constant fighting. Familiar didn’t always mean better, and the months they spent getting over personal hanguls and insecurities were some of the toughest of his life. He’d do it all again in a heartbeat. He wished he had done it sooner. 

“No.” The words were smoke, drifting across the space between them. “Just you.” 

“What?” Kageyama finally turned his head to look at Kenma, his muscles tensing in protest. 

The side of Kenma's face glows unnaturally in the light of the screen, reflecting in the whites of his eyes. “Kei warmed up to you exclusively. Everyone else was an afterthought.” 

“He was our Vice Captain,” Kageyama hissed, something vicious and protective rising up behind his teeth. “He spent more time with _my boyfriend_ than I did. Everyone loved him. We saw him become the best version of himself that year.” 

“Was that before or after—“ 

“Shut up!” The remote clattered to the floor, skidding away when Kageyama accidentally kicks it with his foot. His pulse raced against his neck, uncomfortably fast and off beat. “Stop...stop implying that I cheated on Hinata. I didn’t. Not with Kei or anyone else.” 

“It’s just interesting that the two of you hooked up so close after the breakup, and then dated a year later.” Kenma looked at him then, his eyes wide, most of his face concealed by his hair. “You split just seven months ago. Kuro has been dating Kei for six.” 

Kageyama’s stomach churned anxiously. He swallowed it back down, scowling at the taste. “Congratulations you can do math. What does any of that matter?” 

Why was everyone so obsessed with the past? It’s like, now that’s he’s finally moving on from the _could have should have almost almost almost_ , everyone else decides it's time to look back. No matter where he looked, straight ahead or over his shoulder, he was always at fault somehow. It really pissed him off. 

“He invited you to our apartment and Kuro is gone.” Kenma put his controller down, but his posture didn’t relax. “His boyfriend is gone and he invited his ex to spend the night. It’s disrespectful.” 

As if Kageyama were someone Tsukishima picked up off the street and snuck around with. As if he were someone to be ashamed of having been with. This wouldn’t be an issue if he were Hinata. _Shouyou_ could do no wrong in Kenma’s eyes. That really pissed him off, too. 

“We were friends before anything else.” Kageyama wondered if he sounded as fed up with those words as he felt. “I honestly don’t know who you’re more jealous of, me or Kei.” 

“Excuse me?” Kenma asked, in a tone Kageyama had yet to hear from him. If he had anymore fucks to give he might’ve backed off, because he didn’t know the consequences of an angry Kozume Kenma. But he was way passed the point of caring, and a part of him was proud of himself for cutting through that layer of indifference. 

Despite what everyone thought, and even what Kageyama had reluctantly began to think, he wasn’t as oblivious as it seemed. A blind man could’ve seen how much Kenma liked Hinata back then, almost as much as he liked Kuroo. It didn’t take a genius to crack that slide puzzle, and looking back now, he wonders if he should feel smug or sympathetic. Hinata chose him over everyone else, after all. 

It also didn’t take a genius to pick up on the real reason Kenma was so against Tsukishima’s very presence. Kuroo wasn’t codependent but he was incredibly accommodating. The only things Kageyama knew he cared about back in school were volleyball and Kenma, and probably school since he was in a college prep class. After so many years of being a priority, Kenma was finally forced to add another human being to the list of people Kuroo cared about. And if the boyfriend didn’t take first place over the best friend, it was probably pretty goddamn close. 

Kageyama knee he should quit while he was behind. He knew that he should apologize and retreat to the guest bedroom, or that he should take a minute to think his words through before letting them loose into the universe. There was a million and two things he should’ve done in that moment, but he didn’t do any of them. 

He was tired. 

He was tired of taking the high road, of walking on eggshells and feeling guilty for not knowing what not to say after meeting someone for the very first time. He was tired of feeling stupid and trapped under the weight of people he thought were better than him just because they could fake conversations better than he could. He was tired of catering to someone else’s needs because he could ‘handle his shit better’. He was tired of being the bigger person. 

“I know the real reason Shouyou broke up with you.” 

And it looked like Kenma felt the same 

There was a lot more talking after that, harsh words spoken in low tones, the illumination of the television their only light. Kageyama wished this didn’t feel so familiar, wished that having a rug yanked out from under him only to get beaten by said rug wasn’t muscle memory. 

Kageyama went to bed with a massive headache and woke up not an hour later, starving and dehydrated. He got up, not bothering to put his pants back on, and padded softly to the kitchen. The living room was empty, and the apartment was quiet safe for his own movements. 

_I know the real reason Shouyou broke up with you_

Kageyama hadn’t let him elaborate on that, too heated to take in anything besides the tone of his voice and his own anger. But now he’s morbidly curious. Kenma was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. At the very least he probably didn’t care about Kageyama enough to spare his feelings with sugar coated insults. He was deliberate in his words, just like he had been on the court, and even if Hinata didn't outright told him his deeper feelings concerning their breakup, Kenma was observant enough to find the cracks in his armor. And he was close enough to Hinata to demand the truth. Which begged the question:

If Kenma knew the _real_ reason, what did Hinata lie about on their last day as a couple? 

“Christ!” A voice hisses in the doorway, drawing Kageyama out of his mental stew. He looks up, eyes coming to rest on a sleep rumpled Tsukishima. “What the hell are you doing in here so late?” 

His hair sticks up in every direction, more noticeable now that he’s grown it out to his ears. He’s wearing Kuroo’s old Nekoma jersey and black boxer shorts. When Kageyama doesn’t answer right away, Tsukishima lowers his glasses like an irritated librarian. 

“Earth to King?” 

Kageyama shrugs, raising his cereal filled measuring cup. “Couldn’t sleep. Got hungry.” He shrugs again and shovels a spoonful of now soggy cereal into his mouth. 

Tsukishima peers down into the cup, makes a face that is both disgusted and intrigued. “Did you at least put sugar in there?” His question is answered when, with the next spoonful, Kageyama pulls up more lumpy sugar crystals than rice cereal pieces. He grabs a spoon from the drawer by Kageyama’s hip and digs in. 

They eat in companionable silence, spoons clinking to fight for the last bits. Kageyama drains the too sweet milk so Tsukishima can pour them another ‘bowl’. Neither of them sit at the island, or wash one of the bowls at the top of the pile in the sink. Tsukishima doesn’t suggest getting a separate measuring cup for himself, even though they both know there are at least four in the cabinet above their heads. 

Sharing wasn’t always easy for them, but they got there. 

“Kozume doesn’t think you cheated on Hinata,” Tsukishima says unprompted. “He thinks I’ll end up hurting Kuroo, and that I had something to do with your breakup. He’s trying to find dirt or me or something.” 

That sounds a lot like the Kenma he remembers from school. The former Nekoma setter wasn’t powerful like Oikawa, or a freak like Kageyama, but he was dangerous in his own right. He knew how to analyze opponents without them knowing exactly what he was looking for, or what information he decided was useful. He could read people in a way he made deliberately unsettling, most likely to disuse others from getting too close. 

“Is that why you invited me over?” Kageyama asks after a beat.

“I figured if he saw that I’m not jumping into your pants every ten minutes, maybe he’d back the hell off.” The next mouthful of cereal looks uncomfortable. Tsukishima is tense like he wants to speak but is forcing himself to stay silent. It’s a look Kageyama remembers well from high school. Back then he mistook that look for arrogance, as if the very thought of interacting with the rest of the team caused Tsukishima great pain. 

Kageyama lets him stew for a while, trying and failing to ignore the lack of space between them. He holds the cup in his left hand, held at chest level. Tsukishima stands in front of him, hips angled towards him while his torso twists away whenever his thoughts cause him to frown pensively, like he doesn’t want to be caught showing complex emotions. It would be funny if it didn’t hit so close to home. 

He and Tsukishima never dated, because they didn’t want to call it that. Last summer was cathartic, a release of feelings they didn’t have anyone else to give to. Kageyama was certain that after the first week, when they stopped pushing each other against hard surfaces and tried to turn kissing into a renewable energy source, they would burn out. They hadn’t. 

“Have you ever looked back on your life and thought “I wish I would’ve stuck around to see how this played out”?” 

It’s a fair question, Kageyama thinks, the kind of question one might ask at a sleepover. Thought provoking and scary, something only spoken about in soft tones and uncertain whispers. With the futon close to the bed, close enough for hands to grasp and cling, to pull up or down so warm, trembling arms can wrap around each other. 

Tsukishima snorts. 

“My favorite exercise is me running away from my problems.” Which is...pretty relatable. “Why so philosophical all of a sudden?” His tone is teasing but his eyes bore into his own with a force he isn’t used to. 

Kageyama shrugs, dismissive, but his mind is spinning. Time was a reliable scapegoat, but it was a fragile one. Because it didn’t heal anything, no wound big or small, not by itself. Time was a store, within walking distance of where any one person was, at any given moment. All they needed to start getting better was to walk inside. There were bandages and coping mechanisms and mirrors, and a bunch of other shit Kageyama had wrote down in a crappy poem that he couldn’t remember. But he knew that, in order for Time to work, people had to be willing to hurt for a while. 

Kageyama wasn’t willing to hurt anymore, so he had passed up the opportunity to heal for a very long time. He didn’t think his crude, bedsheet bandages would hold up forever. But he didn’t think they would unravel like this, not in someone else’s apartment, not this late after the fact or too soon. And especially not with Tsukishima. 

Tsukishima, who he thinks he loved when he shouldn’t have, or too late. Tsukishima, who wasn’t like anyone else he knew, except for maybe himself. Tsukishima, who is suddenly very close, looking over him in the way Kageyama hated when they were teenagers. 

“Is this about Hinata?” The back of Kageyama’s hand, the one holding the cup that acts as a barrier, presses against Tsukishima’s warm chest. The swishy material of the jersey—Kuroo’s jersey—feels slippery under his touch. “Or me?” 

Neither, he wants to yell, but he can’t He isn’t used to doing things for himself, because of himself. Volleyball was the first interest he ever had that had sparked something inside of him that wouldn’t be beneficial to anyone else. He took piano lessons for his grandmother, he learned to cook for his mother, he tried skateboarding and skipping stones to impress his father. But volleyball belonged to Kageyama and Kageyama alone. 

He wants to be angry at Hinata for warping that for him. He wants to be furious at Karasuno as a whole for being the best teammates and friends he’s ever had. But he can’t do that either. 

“Does Kuroo know I’m here?” Kageyama asks, hearing Kenma in the back of his mind. He wanted it to sound like an accusation, but it comes out soft, like a secret. Like he’s afraid of the answer, whatever it may be. 

“We were good,” Tsukishima says, equally as soft, ignoring the question entirely. “Why’d we stop?” 

Because they weren’t good! Not really. They had used each other to patch their aching hearts with chewing gum and duct tape. Even after they should’ve healed. 

 

“Because Kuroo—“

“He’s been asking me out since we met,” Tsukishima rushes to say, but it doesn’t sound like he’s talking to Kageyama. “I said yes to shut him up.” He stops back, long arms crossing tightly over his chest. 

“I didn’t say yes because I liked him. I didn’t say yes because I wanted him.” 

Tsukishima is staring him down now, as if anticipating a fight. He isn’t going to get one. Kageyama knows all of those words like the back of his hand, because he was there when Kuroo came back into Tsukishima’s life. An out of the blue text message that went unanswered for almost a month. He was the one who convinced him to give the guy s chance. 

“But you care now. You like him right now.”

“He’s an idiot.” Tsukishima sounds hopeless, golden eyes fixated on the entrance to the kitchen. His lips twist to the side, a frown or a smile, before his eyes move downward to nothing. “I’m an idiot. We’re both idiots. We..” 

Kageyama watches the fight go out of him like a punctured balloon and has to stop himself from holding him up. He’s still holding the goddamn measuring cup, but he’s afraid to move, pinned to the floor by such an unguarded expression. 

“You let go, King.” 

And there are too many ways to interpret that. Too many ways those words are dreadfully accurate. Kageyama hates each and every one of them. 

_You let me go. You let us go. You let Him go._

They’re all true, and whatever face Tsukishima is making, be it sadness or pity, he's right. 

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Kageyama reminds him, just like he reminded him seven months ago. 

“You wanted me to.” 

“Because I knew Kuroo cared about you.” 

The look he gets, a shocked hurt that surprises them both, nearly sends him to the floor. Tsukishima Kei wasn’t terrible. He was so far from terrible it was laughable. The only bad thing about him was that he wasn’t afraid to let others in, to let them see how good he was. Kageyama had been one of the privileged few and he...

“Didn’t you care about me?” He can’t even muster up his usual snark. The question sounds so real, so genuinely unsure that it makes him sick. 

“Of course I did! _I do!_ ” Hadn’t he proven that? Kageyama was bad with words, everyone knew that, so he talked with actions instead. Wasn’t that enough back then? He knows now, here in this moment, that he should’ve spoken up more about everything back when he was a clueless sixteen year old. But he’s better now, isn’t he? He was better last year, right? 

“They why are we here right now?” 

Vaguely, Kageyama notices that the cup is gone. He hadn’t thought about putting it down, or why he shouldn’t put it down, until his fingers curl into the fabric of Tsukishima’s shirt and he yanks him down to eye level, like he used to do back when he let his hands talk for him. Like Tsukishima had goaded him into doing before they learned how to talk to each other. 

Their first kiss had been like this, angry and impulsive, like they were seconds away from fighting. Maybe they would’ve brawled then, if Kageyama had stepped back, or if Tsukishima hadn’t grabbed his hair just as tightly and kept him in place. Maybe a lot of things in his life wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t so...

_Easy._

It was always so easy to get under his skin. That’s what he remembers Hinata telling him, that night under the streetlamp. 

“You’re afraid that Kenma’s right,” Kageyama says, holding his eyes. “You’re afraid that you’ll hurt Kuroo.” He can see the truth in the set of his mouth, the downward curve of his brow. Tsukishima wasn’t terrible, and he wasn’t malicious. If he didn’t love Kuroo, at the very least he cared enough about him to want him happy. 

Kageyama lets him go, again, and finally puts some space between them. He finds the measuring cup on the counter bedside them and gulps down the rest of it before adding it and their spoons to the pile of dirty dishes threatening to fall over. His instincts tell him to clean them, petty stubbornness aside. He was raised to be a respective guest. 

“What did you look back on?” Tsukishima asks as he starts drying and putting away the wet plates Kageyama has set aside. Despite everything, Kageyama feels a bit victorious. He would’ve put everything away afterwards, but he’s happy that he doesn’t have to now. 

Still, that doesn’t mean he’s caught up on whatever the hell they're not talking about this time. “What?” 

“What did you look back on that you’re so uncertain about?” 

Hinata comes to mind, like he always does whenever anyone asks him about the past or his feelings. He could say Hinata, and he knows Tsukishima would drop the subject. 

“Why are you afraid that Kuroo wants to break up with you?” He likes this question better, honestly, and not just because the focus is no longer on himself. 

He doesn’t feel guilty for pushing the other man into giving Kuroo a clear cut answer, because he trusted the ex-captain not to be an asshole. Tsukishima deserves someone willing to work past his walls and to tear them down from the inside. For someone so tall, he has a hard time seeing things that are right in front of, spinning a sign that’s shouting its affection for him. 

Kuroo was a dork, but he was a good leader, a kind man. He was fun but knew how to be serious, and he seemed like one of the few people who had saw right through his teenage snark. _That’s_ why Kageyama wanted Tsukishima to give him a chance. He wasn’t in a position to love him long term, like he deserved. But Kuroo was. Kuroo was free of emotional baggage and could take his time in unpacking all that Tsukishima carried around. Kuroo was, quite possibly, perfect for him. 

“I’m not afraid that he wants to break up with me.” Tsukishima sighs, shaky and heavy, and Kageyama looks at him. _Really_ looks at him. His cheeks are pale, his lips chapped and bitten red, the corners pressed down in a grimace. His shoulders roll forward to tuck himself away from the rest of the world, from the man standing next to him. His eyes are full behind his glasses, the heat evaporating like steam, leaving nothing behind.

“I’m worried that he doesn’t.” 

He looks lonely, Kageyama realizes with a start. Like a little kid left behind by an older sibling. Or a boyfriend living in an empty bedroom surrounded by things that remind him of the one person he’s dared to like in a long time. He’s wearing the jersey for a reason. One that should’ve been obvious from the moment Kageyama laid eyes on him. He didn’t know what it was like to wear his boyfriend’s clothes, but he understands the sentiment. 

The last of the dishes pass between them in silence. It feels like the fever of their tension has broken, leaving them heavy and tired. Kageyama leans against him, pressing his shoulder to Tsukishima’s arm. He gets a push back. They linger there, recharging, until the sink is empty. 

They walk back to the hall of closed doors, passing Kenma and Akaashi in Kenma’s room, the bathroom and the closet, before stopping at the two on the end. Kageyama is bone deep tired, but he doesn’t think sleep is in his future. Not any time soon at least. 

“Let me ask you something,” Tsukishima murmurs, like he hasn’t been pitching knuckleballs all night. “Do you think we would’ve worked?” 

Kageyama purses his lips, looking Tsukishima over. He thinks about what they’d be doing now if they had stayed together, dared to label their summer fling. Would they be at Tsukishima’s place, or Kageyama’s dorm, kicking out his roommate? Would he wear Tsukishima’s jacket in the afternoon? Would they hold hands publicly or play with each other’s fingers under café tables? 

Does it matter now if he answers truthfully?

“The world wasn’t ready for us to be official,” is the best answer he can come up with. CStill, he can’t help but smile as he pictures it, the two of them turning the romance scene on its head. Tsukishima must see it too, because a tired laugh drifts in the air between them. 

“Goodnight, King.” 

“Night, Shima.” 

They disappear into their respective rooms, doors closing softly behind them. Kageyama stares at the guest bed for a very long time. Then he walks right past it and gets his duffle bag from the closet. 

In the morning, Akaashi is the first to wake. He locks the door behind Kageyama when he leaves.


	8. May: Three Months After Breakup

_It really shouldn’t bother him._

Being on a university volleyball team was everything Kageyama had hoped for, and then some. All of his new teammates worked hard, sticking to strict practice schedules and healthy food plans. They pushed themselves until their limit, and then a bit farther each day, expanding like new lungs. 

On his first morning jog of the new school year, he ran into not one, not two, but _seven_ freshman trying out for the team. They greeted him cheerfully, asked about his classes, included him in conversation. It felt like a dream that lasted for weeks, through practice and drills and study sessions. Kageyama’s facial muscles were so well acquainted with his smile, that he immediately felt the change the day they get their uniforms. 

_It really doesn’t bother him. Really._

They’re a far cry from the bright orange that once accented his Karasuno uniform, and the dark blue reminds him of Kitagawa. But the new fabric feels good in his hands. Fresh. Clean. Untouched and free of memories and mistakes. No one here knows anything about him. There are no nicknames or shameful tantrums to shrink back against. There are no whispered insults or titles to reclaim. Kageyama Tobio is one of five lucky freshmen to be selected for the team, and no one cares about what he did or didn’t do off of the court last year. 

The other three freshmen, Goya, Eto and Otsuka, are ecstatic, giddy and overjoyed in a way that Kageyama hasn’t felt, if he ever has, in a very long time. Tryouts were brutal, leaving him out of step with the rest of the body. For an agonizing three days he hadn’t known if one of the open spots on the team would be his. He hadn’t known if he was good enough. 

_He doesn’t care._

It’s after practice on a cool evening in May when the boxes arrive. Coach Kobayashi (affectionately nicknamed Coach-bayashi) calls everyone to attention, and Kageyama, still clutching his new identity, is slow to join. He folds the fabric over his arm, hiding it as best he can. 

“Otsuka! Hinata! Goya! Eto! Kageyama!” He calls to each of the new members. “You hold in your hands your place on this team. Should you stay, the numbers on your chest may change, and they may stay the same. Regardless! Take a good long look at them. You never forget your first jersey.”

Coach Kobayashi smiles, no doubt reminiscing about his own past teams. He doesn’t notice the carefully closed off look on two of his freshmen’s faces. He doesn’t feel the drop in temperature or the tightening of muscles as two people try their hardest not to look like they want to be very far apart. 

“Osu!!” 

Practice is over after that, with a reminder to keep their uniforms clean and to be on time Monday morning. People—his new teammates—call out cheerful goodbyes and wishes for a good weekend. Kageyama is hyper aware of the voices that call to him specifically, the once familiar cheerful tone glaringly absent. He holds up his jersey again in the ringing silence, grimacing. 

_It doesn’t matter._

“Is there a problem with your uniform, Kageyama-kun?” Startled, he looks up. Matsuo Itaru, number thirteen. Nice smile, cute face, the wrong shade of brown eyes. He’s a year above and an excellent middle blocker, with arms strong enough to withstand extensive practice. He’s…friendly to put it mildly, the kind of friendly Kageyama doesn’t know how to deal with. 

Kageyama looks at his jersey again, as if he hasn’t already memorized it. 

Nineteen. 

He remembers the week long argument about numbers, sizes and measurements of the team, but mostly who got what. It wasn’t a hard and fast rule, but generally captains proudly displayed the number one. Hinata, ever the sentimental idiot, complained for hours on end about the loss of his legacy. Two years he’d worn number ten with pride, breathing new life into the Small Giant persona, and he was more than reluctant to part with it. 

So a compromise had been made. 

_“You have to keep nine, then.” Hinata had said, pouting but also looking satisfied, as if the decision had already been agreed upon._

_“Why?” Kageyama had asked, more than happy to keep what he had declared his lucky number. But when it came to Hinata it was always best to keep him on his toes._

_“Because one plus nine is ten!”_

At the time Kageyama had blushed, had fought back a dopey grin as he called Hinata a dumbass and let himself be lead to the clubroon, small, warm fingers knitted with his own. 

Now he just feels sick, clammy and cold. 

“There’s no problem. Just.. reflecting. About what coach said.” He doesn’t try to smile, having learned his lesson years ago. Instead his smoothes out his features, not quite blank, but indifferently polite. 

“I think he’s right.”

_One plus nine is ten!_

“You never forget your first.”


End file.
